Hurtled into Chaos
by Wyl
Summary: DA2: A cynical, taciturn rogue with a strong sense of duty to her family struggles against her past and present. Can she overcome the misery within to find purpose, friendship, and later love? Campaign story with lots of twists. Book 1 of 3 Act 1 .
1. A Promise to Keep

_..._

_Hurtled into chaos, you fight…_

…_and the world will shake before you._

_Is it fate or chance? – Flemeth_

-==0==-

_Deliver… _demanded the voice, the ghost of a whisper inside her mind.

*thump* *thump* beat her heart, the amplification of that pounding internal rhythm battering her ears. She was scarcely aware of the external sounds around her, the raspy cries of her mother and the shouts from Aveline and Bethany as they regrouped from their latest skirmish with darkspawn on the trail to Gwaren.

_I can't… _Mireille Hawke groaned inwardly in defeat.

Gwaren, their immediate destination, was still at least two long days away for the already bone weary travelers. And while the darkspawn encounters were far less frequent since being rescued by the mysterious Witch of the Wilds, the constant pressure of the life and death flight from Lothering had taken its toll. They hadn't slept in days. It was simply too dangerous to stop longer than it took to catch their breath over a hastily prepared meal.

Her mother scornfully blaming her for her brother's death, along with Bethany's defeatist attitude, had only piled on to sap her will. Mireille could see in their eyes that both had already given up and were simply waiting for fate to intervene and call an end to this. Aveline, however, was doggedly determined not to let the deaths of Carver Hawke and her husband, Wesley, be for naught. Only the strength Mireille was drawing from the woman she shared nothing with, save the common goal of survival, was keeping her from giving up, from forsaking the promise she'd made to her father before his death to keep the family safe.

That and the incessant voice in her head urging her forward.

_You will! _The voice demanded again. _Dalish…Keeper Marethari…_

Temper flaring, the rogue snatched the amulet off her neck, breaking the chain in the process. She whirled and fired the amulet into the side of the cliff they were currently circumnavigating before stomping away.

Mireille barely moved a handful of steps before she seized up, a crushing weight dropping her to her knees and then to her hands. _There are some things in this world worse than death… _the voice warned ominously, chastising her all the while continuing to inflict unbearable pain. Mireille couldn't speak, couldn't breathe. She could only silently beg for the pain to stop.

Finally the invisible force relented.

Moments later she felt a wash of rejuvenating energy envelop her, granting a temporary stay to her weariness. Her face flushed with anger, the rogue pushed herself to her feet, aware of but not surprised that no one around her seemed to notice any of what transpired. It felt like a fog hung over the group that only broke in the short stretches when there was battle.

She couldn't muster the mental energy to protest further. Without sparing the group a glance she retrieved the amulet and tossed it into her pack before trudging ahead on the path, barely aware of her faithful mabari, Revas, trotting at her side or the three women behind her.

Rounding a bend of the trail, she caught sight of a pack of creatures that appeared to be humanoid wolves. It took but a moment to realize they were feasting on the remains of a couple of elves. The wolf-men turned their attention to the sound of boots scuffling along the earth, their predatory red eyes reflecting hunger.

Mireille screamed in sheer terror.

-==0==-

Jerking awake, Misery Hawke gasped as she sat upright, shivering even though the nightshirt she wore was soaked in sweat. She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her sweat-slick bare legs, bringing her forehead down to rest on her knees as she tried to calm her hyperventilating.

"Miri?" called out a voice softly, tentatively, from the bunk above. "Are you okay?" When her older sister didn't answer right away, Bethany peeked over the side. "Miri?"

"D-do not call me that," the older girl practically growled between audible breaths as she continued to struggle against the memory of their flight from Ferelden.

Not wanting to get into another argument over her sister's choice of monikers, Bethany sighed to herself rather than reply directly. She'd already compromised by only referring to her generically as 'Sister' in public. But whether it was in public or in private, Bethany refused to address her older sister as 'Misery'. After another minute went by without her sister saying anything else, Bethany quietly asked, "It was the witch again, wasn't it?"

Misery's eyes gave away the answer when she affixed her storage chest in the corner of the dimly lit room a hard glare that lasted several moments before turning her gaze upward to meet Bethany's.

"Yeah…" she finally replied. "I don't know how, but she knows I haven't delivered the amulet to the Dalish keeper yet. The nightmares are getting more intense…more…" She paused, still fighting to calm her rattled nerves. With a shake of her head, she hissed, "Just more. I… h-her voice in my head is more… _insistent_."

"I-I don't even remember the name of the person we were told to give it to," Bethany admitted.

"Marethari," Misery answered, chuckling humorlessly. "The witch will not let me forget."

"Well, our commitment to Athenril is over with, so we have the time now to deliver it?"

"Bethany, we don't even know where the Dalish are!" she replied in frustration. "Besides, they're said to move around on a regular basis to avoid contact with humans, and the information the witch gave us is a year old now. They might not even be anywhere near Kirkwall at this point."

"Last time I asked Aveline she said the City Guard knew of a Dalish clan up on Sundermount. We could start there?" she half suggested, half asked.

"So… what? We walk a whole fucking mountain hoping we just happen to stumble into a group that doesn't want to be found? Who, if you believe the stories, are liable to kill us for coming too close before we even see them?"

Bethany sighed. Trying a different approach she suggested, "Maybe that guy Varric we met the other day knows something. If nothing else, he certainly acted like he knew anything worth knowing around the city."

Misery shook her head, sliding out of bed and angrily yanking off her drenched shirt before casting it into a pile in the corner. She sucked in her bottom lip in response to the chill of the night air on her damp skin. Bethany's eyes immediately went to the doorway, instinctively watching for Uncle Gamlen to be _conveniently_ passing by while her sister dug around for another nightshirt to cover her naked upper half.

"I doubt Varric would be pleased to find us spending what little coin we have on a fool's errand into the mountains when we're supposed to be raising fifty sovereigns for Bartrand's expedition," the older girl finally replied while pulling on a shirt. She ran her fingers through her sweat-matted short black tousled hair, her aqua eyes once again settling on her storage chest as she sighed in resignation. "Still… we'll talk to him… though I'm inclined to tell him to go fuck himself if he objects. I know we need this expedition, but… Andraste's ass, I am going to go insane if I sit on this amulet much longer."

Bethany nodded silently, having a pretty good idea of how much the amulet had been weighing on her by the increased frequency she was having that recurring nightmare of their flight from Lothering. But she prayed Mireille's, nay _Misery's_ notorious temper wouldn't cost them this opportunity with the Tethras brothers.

Flopping back into bed, Misery exhaled audibly. "Go back to sleep, Bethany. We'll figure out a plan in the morning." She closed her eyes, and Bethany finally allowed herself to do the same once she heard her sister's breathing fall into the steady rhythm of slumber.

-==0==-

"Ahh! The Hawke sisters!" Varric called out jovially while waving the girls over to the table he was sitting at in his room in the Hanged Man. He set down his quill and shouted for the waitress Norah to bring up another pot of coffee.

"So you… live here?" Bethany asked in slight confusion.

Laughing, the dwarf nodded. "You got it, Sunshine. Room service, a running tab, someone to clean up after me… what could be better?"

The young mage raised an eyebrow quizzically. "Sunshine?"

"When you have a sister named _Misery_," Varric began, gesturing with his thumb towards the older sister, "you gotta have something cheerier to offset that."

Bethany giggled while Misery rolled her eyes as she accepted a mug from Norah. After filling her mug and taking a drink, Misery casually asked, "So what do you know about the Dalish around these parts?"

If he was surprised by the question he didn't show it. "I know there's a clan that makes its camp up on Sundermount. They're not what anyone would call _friendly_ towards outsiders, but they don't hide their presence either."

Misery nodded. "I have to make a delivery of sorts to their keeper. Think you could show us the way?"

Varric whistled low. "That's a long way out of the way for a delivery. I hope the job is paying well."

"Afraid not, Varric." Misery sighed with slight bitterness. "More like fulfilling an… mmm… overdue promise."

"I sense a story here."

Misery hesitated. She wasn't a very open person by nature and didn't feel like she knew Varric well enough to delve into personal issues.

Misinterpreting her sister's silence for mere contemplation, Bethany spoke up. "A Witch of the Wilds calling herself 'Flemeth' saved us from being overwhelmed by darkspawn when we were fleeing Lothering. When we told her-"

"Wait, _Flemeth_?" interrupted Varric, flashing an expression mixed of skepticism and amusement. "_The _Flemeth?"

"If arriving as a dragon and wiping out scores of darkspawn, transforming into a human to talk to us, then changing back into a dragon and flying off means anything, then probably so," Misery answered dryly, her expression neutral as she took another drink.

Varric stared at the older Hawke sister for a moment, trying to get a read on her. Finally he started chuckling. "You're shitting me."

Bethany giggled. "The witch said she only stopped to help because she was curious to see who had taken down this huge ogre…" Her expression fell slightly and her voice grew softer as she added, "the one that k-killed our brother, Carver." She glanced over at her sister, noticing she'd closed her eyes at the mention of Carver, before tentatively continuing the explanation. "Anyway, we told the witch we were trying to get out of Ferelden and go to Kirkwall, and she promised to make the way to Gwaren safer in exchange for delivering an amulet to the keeper of a Dalish clan near here."

"But I don't get it. You've been here a year. Why haven't you delivered it already? And why now when you need to avoid unnecessary expenses?"

A scowl began to creep across Misery's countenance. "This is _necessary_."

Bethany tensed. She knew her sister's mannerisms well enough to know that her irritation level was rising rapidly. Trying to preempt an outburst, the younger sister cleared her throat lightly. "Athenril wouldn't give us the time for it while we were in her service paying off the debt. Varric, this really is important. The amulet-"

"That's enough, Bethany!" Misery hissed, cutting her sister off in mid-sentence. She glared harshly at Bethany until the mage averted her eyes nervously to her own mug of coffee. Taking in and releasing a deep breath, she returned her gaze to the dwarf. "This is necessary," she echoed in a tone that made it clear the questioning period was over.

Varric held up his hands, gesturing for the girl to calm down. "Hey, Hawke, take it easy. If it's necessary, it's necessary. We'll do it."

Misery slowly released a breath she hadn't even realized she was holding. Nodding slowly, she finally replied quietly, "Thank you."

Varric rubbed his chin in thought. "It'll take a few days to get a trip to Sundermount put together. You mind if we knock out something local today in the meantime?"

"I'm game, what is it?"

"Come on, let's go and I'll tell you on the way."

-==0==-

Wincing slightly from the brightness of the mid-morning sunlight, Varric motioned for the two girls to follow him while he began talking. "So, you see, in addition to not having the coin to fund the expedition, Bartrand also doesn't have a good way into the Deep Roads anywhere near Kirkwall."

Misery stopped in her tracks. "Let me get this straight. Your brother is starting an expedition which has no destination and he has no means of paying for, yet the little bastard had the gall to act put out that we were asking to help?"

"That's Bartrand for you," Varric grumbled. "Not exactly the sharpest blade in the rack."

"So this whole expedition is bullshit?"

"No, no, Hawke, it's real enough." Resuming his walk he continued, "I got a lead that a Grey Warden came in with a group of Fereldan refugees. The Grey Wardens know the Deep Roads at least as well as my people, so if we can find him I'll bet he can tell us of a good entry point in this region."

"You're kidding, right? A Grey Warden? _That's _your plan?" _Ugh… I'm wasting my time with these idiots…_

"You gotta think big here!" Varric explained. "There's only a short time after a Blight when the Deep Roads aren't overrun with darkspawn and haven't been picked clean. The Grey Warden is bound to know a secret way in."

Misery merely scoffed in response.

"Do you know where to find the warden?" Bethany asked, hoping to keep the conversation civil.

"As it so happens, Sunshine, word is the owner of a Fereldan import shop here in Lowtown refers people to him. We pay her a visit, she tells us where to find him, and boom! We're on our way."

"And that's where we're headed now," Misery stated knowingly.

"Bingo!"

Lost to her thoughts, the female rogue completely missed Bethany smiling apologetically at Varric and the dwarf winking back conspiratorially, as if to say, _No worries, Sunshine, I've already got handling your sister under control._

* * *

><p><em>AN: A big thanks to Eva Galana for beta editing the first several chapters and helping me sort through and shuffle around some content. I really wanted to get this story off to a stronger start than what I did with 'The Little Hero', and she helped me quite a bit to achieve that. She's also an outstanding author in her own right, so if you haven't read her stories yet you definitely should!<em>


	2. Life is a Catch

"Tomwise?" Misery asked in surprise moments after she, Varric, and Bethany stepped off the lift that had taken them from the surface down into Darktown.

A shifty looking elf turned at the mention of his name. His suspicious glare quickly softened and a smile formed as he recognized the shemlen woman. "Hawke!" he called out almost joyously.

Misery trotted up to him, quickly enveloping the elven alchemist in a friendly embrace. "It's been a long time, my friend. When did you stop working the docks?"

"Aye! I haven't seen you since we did that job for Athenril months ago. Ahhh, the docks got too… _hot_, if you know what I mean. Hey, I heard you cut ties with Athenril. Not sure how she's going to hold off the Coterie without her top dog."

The raven haired rogue scowled at the mention of Athenril. "She blew any shot of me staying on with her after my year was up when she felt the need to put me in my place."

"What happened between you two anyway? Word is you wanted too big a piece of the action, but I don't buy that."

Misery waved her hand dismissively, her hard expression indicating it wasn't something she was going to get into. "If that is what helps Athenril sleep at night, whatever. She knows the truth though."

Tomwise nodded, "Anyway, it's good to see you again. Say, if you're ever in the market for any of my _specialties_, come find me. I'll take care of you, just like old times."

The rogue's expression turned contemplative. She pulled her small equipment pack from her back and began rummaging through it until she found the scrap of vellum she was looking for.

"Think you can do anything with this?" she asked while handing the partial page to Tomwise. "I got it awhile back from a merchant down by the docks."

"Anyone I know?" he asked while looking over what appeared to be a formula for making tar bombs.

"Probably, but I did not recognize him. He wasn't exactly running a booth officially sanctioned by the city."

Tomwise nodded in understanding, "Sure, Hawke, this formula looks doable. Give me a week to build and test a few prototypes and work out any kinks. I don't want to give you something without being able to tell you what exactly to expect."

A brief smile crept across Misery's face at the elf's concern. That was Tomwise though. From the time she'd first met him shortly after joining Athenril's gang, he had consistently looked out for her whenever their paths crossed. And her working knowledge of poisons had come almost entirely from what he had taught her. She'd once skeptically asked what his angle was. He'd laughed before explaining how he was trying to survive just like anyone else, and that taking care of his clients was in his own best interests.

When she called bullshit on that he turned more serious and confided that he'd been in her situation a few years earlier and probably wouldn't have survived if someone hadn't taken a bit of time to show him the ropes. He made it clear he wasn't a do-gooder by any stretch, but he did have a soft spot for the girl who reminded him so much of himself – talented and self-reliant, just needing an experienced hand they could trust to occasionally help steer them through Kirkwall's underworld.

"Thank you," she whispered before parting ways.

-==0==-

"So tell me, Hawke, how'd you do it?" Varric asked, making conversation as they walked through Darktown in search of the Grey Warden's clinic. "It's not every day a top lieutenant in a thieves' guild walks away on their own terms. Usually they know too much to let live."

Misery sighed. Varric was likable enough, but she could already tell that working with him was going to be trying. He saw a story in everything, and she wasn't one that liked to reveal much. "Let's just say Athenril knows if she pulls anything with me it won't matter if I am dead, her budding empire is done and she'll never see the light of day again."

"So what made you walk away? I know your obligation was up, but it seems like you had a pretty good thing going there."

Bethany's interest was piqued as well. She knew an incident between the two women left Misery extremely shaken, but her sister had refused to give any details.

"_Not_ a topic for discussion," Misery replied pointedly. Bethany's shoulders slumped in dejection. Her older sister saw the reaction and shook her head in disapproval. Bethany nodded, resignation filling her features.

-==0==-

Silence took hold on the group while Varric led the way. Having been asked twice in a row what happened between her and Athenril, it was only natural that Misery's thoughts turned inward to that night. She gritted her teeth in frustration as the strong emotions she'd worked hard to bury began resurfacing against her will.

"Heads up, ladies," Varric warned in a low voice. "These guys don't look friendly."

Misery blinked, returning to the present from her reverie. She focused her attention up ahead, welcoming the distraction from her memories.

"Coterie…" she stated matter-of-factly. Her mind was already shifting to combat mode.

Misery subconsciously tapped the sheaths of the knives mounted horizontally to her belt, one positioned above each hip. Her hands drifted forward from there to the ends of the hilts. She always knew they were there, readily accessible, but the simple act was just as much a part of her pre-battle routine as taking her shortbow off of her back. Routine was conducive to predictability, and predictability to control.

Even though the Coterie thugs hadn't made their intentions clear, Misery had no intention of giving them the chance to seize the initiative. Not that she was rationally evaluating the situation to reach that conclusion. If she was, she'd realize that they were merely a convenient substitute for the wrath she desperately wanted to inflict elsewhere. That the thugs wouldn't actually sate that desire for vengeance was irrelevant at the moment.

Bethany made no move to take her staff from her back. The mage was armed by default, however, since a few quick words were all that was necessary for fire or ice to burst forth from her bare hands. Varric reached back and grasped Bianca's stock as he eyed the rogues they were on a collision course with, not actually drawing her but making it clear he was prepared if they tried anything. The decision was taken out of his hands though when he heard a muffled _twang_ from behind and the near instantaneous _pffft_ of an arrow whistling by a bit up and to his right. The dwarf blinked at the unexpected shot, refocusing his vision in time to see the thug closest to him drop with an arrow sticking out of his throat.

"Get them!" a female voice screamed from the back of the Coterie group.

Varric snatched Bianca from his back, and with the push of a button and the snap of his wrist she unfolded, brandishing forth in all her glory. He pulled the trigger of the high-powered crossbow, feeling the satisfying kick that accompanied the _thunk_ sound she made when spitting out her high velocity projectiles. "Bianca, you minx!" he bellowed in excitement when the triplet of bolts buried themselves into the chest and shoulder of the female assassin closing in on him. The force of impact knocked the girl back and off her feet, halting her attack before it ever got started.

Bethany finished an incantation for a fireball, but the words were barely out of her mouth before she swore in frustration. Her sister had sprinted forward to engage the enemy without waiting for the mage to cast. The result was that Misery ran right into the concussive blast of the magical attack and was blown roughly from her feet along with a pair of thugs. Bethany quickly followed up with a healing spell aimed at the irritatingly impulsive rogue.

Varric turned his attention from his first attacker to one that was sneaking up on his disoriented companion. The dwarf fired a bolt, but it didn't penetrate the chain shirt the Coterie thug wore and failed to distract him from Misery.

Misery dragged herself to her feet, trying to shake the ringing from her ears. She could feel the blood trickling down the side of her face. Before completely getting her bearings, she was attacked from behind. She grimaced from a cheap longsword slamming into her back. It didn't have a good enough edge to slash through her leather armor, but the blunt force trauma of the impact still echoed painfully.

In response, Misery spun around. With her bow held firmly in her left hand she whacked the enemy in the head in a backhanded slashing attack, the homemade spikes on the upper limb of the recurve taking hair and flesh with them in the resulting gash. She immediately followed with a stab from the knife she'd drawn and held in her right hand in an overhand grip.

The knife didn't penetrate the chain shirt of the foe, but she pressed the attack by whipping her bow back the other direction in a forehand chop. The enemy rogue got his longsword up in time to parry, and Misery heard the sickening sound of the wood of her bow cracking from the impact. Grunting angrily, she ducked the follow up chop from her foe, almost flowing around him as she repositioned herself behind her victim and plunged her knife into the back of his neck. The blow severed his spinal cord, granting him an instant and largely painless death.

Misery quickly turned her attention to Bethany, who she saw deflect away the thrust of a sword with her staff and counter with a short, compact forehand slash to the chest that knocked her attacker back a couple steps. Taking advantage of the separation that afforded, the mage spun the staff behind her back to generate speed, and then leveraged the centrifugal force to bring the staff to bear at the rogue's blade hand. The leather glove he wore wasn't enough to prevent the force of impact from shattering the bones in the back of his hand, immediately disarming him in the process.

The thug didn't have long to contemplate the pain before an arcane bolt from the mage's staff tore into him and took his breath. Bethany pirouetted in place, swinging the staff over her head, and then brought it down in a fast, tight arc. The reinforced end connected solidly with the side of the man's head, ending his life.

_Score another for Aveline_, Misery thought briefly before turning towards the sole remaining thug just in time to see her fall to Varric's long range attack.

It had been the redheaded warrior that convinced the Hawkes that Bethany's best chance not to be discovered as a mage wasn't only not wearing traditional mage robes, but in learning to defend herself through martial skill rather than relying solely on magic. The warrior had been a demanding but patient instructor over the past year. However, the results couldn't be argued with. Bethany was rapidly becoming a tough opponent that could hold her own in battle without need of constant protection.

With the short battle over, Misery returned her knife to the sheath above her right hip and turned a critical eye to her weathered bow, scowling at the hairline crack that now ran through the upper limb. She realized it was done for.

"You okay, Hawke?" Varric asked as he approached her.

"Other than breaking my bow, yeah…" She sighed.

"You know, a bow is generally used for firing arrows, not whacking people with."

Misery waved her hand dismissively. "Nice work, by the way. I'd guessed you were _compensating_ with that oversized crossbow, but it seems you actually know how to use it."

Varric laughed. "What can I say? I'm a businessman, but sometimes I have to shoot people."

Bethany stomped up to the pair. "What were you thinking, charging in like that?" she demanded. "You _knew_ I was going to toss an area spell in that situation!"

"Do you have another bow at home?" asked Varric. "Or are you going to have to buy another one?" His tone carried an underlying concern over the potential need to spend coin on new equipment.

Misery's eyes flitted back and forth between the pair, both of whom were frustrated with her for different reasons. She finally threw her hands up in exasperation. "For your information, Varric, I fight like that all the time. It is a hybrid fighting style I taught myself."

She gestured to the series of nails she'd driven through the upper and lower limbs to function as spikes in melee combat. "I _do_ shoot arrows from it mainly, but I can do a lot of damage with these in hand-to-hand as well. I am actually left-handed. I taught myself to shoot right-handed so I could hold the bow in my strong hand and use it like a spiked club in close combat. The bow cracked because it is old and beat up. Anyway, don't worry about. I'll… get by…"

_Guess I'll be using daggers for awhile until I can scrape together enough for another bow_, she thought in annoyance as she turned away.

Varric noticed the girl's hand drift to the hilt of the dagger that was in a scabbard strapped to the outside of her right leg. He didn't doubt she'd get by, he knew her reputation well enough to know things like this didn't get in her way. Still, he was curious though as to what made an attractive, talented girl like her seemingly try so hard not to be liked. _Misery, indeed_, he thought, sighing lightly.

Bethany huffed when Misery began to walk away without answering her question. "Ignoring me now are we, sister?" she asked sarcastically.

The older sister glanced back without stopping. "Pretty much…" she offered dryly before looking away. _I know I messed up, what is there to say?_

Bethany's lips pursed in irritation, and making eye contact with Varric she shook her head before falling in step.

-==0==-

"So where is that stupid clinic?" Misery grumbled, trying to make sense of the winding halls of Darktown. They'd been walking for awhile since the skirmish with the Coterie. "Haven't we already passed by here twice already?"

Varric shook his head. "That's a woman for you… sense of direction is obviously not your strong suit. I told you to let me lead the way, but oh no, you had to be the one-"

"What? I took over because we were lost and you refused to stop and ask for directions! Men!"

"I wasn't _lost_. It was just a… shortcut I hadn't taken before. What do you want, a map with a 'You are Here' marker and a big exclamation point on the destination?"

"It'd certainly be more useful than 'I think it's this way!'… I am beginning to think it is not just Bartrand that can't find the Deep Roads. Can't we just find someone to stop and ask?"

"Right… because the people in Darktown are so willing help their fellow citizens, and everyone especially wants to help the cranky female type stomping around like they've got a stick up their-"

"Will you two please stop? You're making a scene," Bethany pleaded in a loud whisper.

"Is it my fault Darktown doesn't make any sense? Who designs a layout like this?" Misery demanded.

A woman walking by glared hard at the rogue for a moment before snidely declaring, "Don't like Darktown? Then die and make some room!"

In the blink of an eye Misery slammed the woman up against a wall and pressed a knife to her throat. "How 'bout you tell me where I can find the healer's clinic before I start, oh… _making some room_."

The woman gulped, her eyes wide in visible fear. "F-follow th-this hall all the w-way down to the other en-end," she stuttered.

Misery smirked. "Thank you," she replied in high pitched mock sweetness before backing off and turning away, letting the woman go.

Falling in step behind the raven haired beauty, Varric chuckled a bit uneasily. "Maker's breath, Hawke, you really do get results, don't you?"

Bethany sighed deeply but didn't say anything. More than anything she wished she could somehow rescue her sister from this dark place she was in. That somehow the Mireille she grew up with and loved dearly could reemerge from the shadows of this Misery she'd become. But she had no idea what to do to make that happen.

-==0==-

"Gather your party? What do you think that's about?" Bethany asked, gesturing to a sign outside the door to the healer's clinic.

Varric shrugged. "There's a sign like that in the Hanged Man too. Maybe this place used to be a tavern or restaurant and it's a place to wait to be seated."

The group entered the makeshift clinic, without waiting, to witness what could only be the Grey Warden alight in a soft glow, running his hands over a young boy lying on a bed with presumably his parents looking on in worry. The slightest of smiles crept across Misery's face at the sight of the healer, his countenance bearing an intense concentration while the sweat of exertion beaded on his forehead.

It wasn't the man's attractiveness or even that he was treating a child that kindled a smidgeon of happiness in her though. It was that he was obviously pushing himself to the point of exhaustion to help others, an act of selflessness that she'd seen almost none of since before she and Carver had departed Lothering with the other soldiers to join up with the armies at Ostagar. She'd almost forgotten what it was like to see someone helping others without an agenda, without the expectation of personal gain. It made her think of her father, who she still sorely missed four years after his death.

She stopped and waited in silence as the Grey Warden finished with the child. The man stumbled away from the table in exhaustion, putting his head in his hands as he turned his back to the room and bent over at the waist. Several moments of silence elapsed and Misery was just about to step forward and ask the warden if he was alright when suddenly he whirled around angrily.

"I have made this place a sanctum of healing and salvation! Why do you threaten it?" he screamed.

Misery was taken aback by the man's overly hostile reaction. _Is this how he treats all first time guests?_ _Why would he think we are threatening him? _She paused, possible responses practically spinning in her head like a wheel as she resisted the impulse to simply drop the hammer in an equally aggressive manner. She knew that if they were going to get something useful out of the Grey Warden, she needed to at least try to be nice. Still, she wasn't sure she was going to go so far as to extend an olive branch in diplomacy either.

After a few seconds she tilted her head and smirked almost playfully. "Salvation? See, Varric? I told you we should've taken that left at Albuquerque. We apparently have ended up in Hightown at the Chantry instead of in Darktown… though honestly, I always pictured the Chantry as being fancier than this."

The Grey Warden looked at the girl with slight confusion, his hard expression faltering. "N-no… this isn't the Chantry."

"So I shouldn't refer to you as _Brother Grey_ then, oh Bringer of Salvation?" she asked, grinning wryly.

"Uhh, please don't." He frowned. "But I assume you saying that means your visit has something to do with the Grey Wardens?"

"In a sense," Misery admitted. "We are putting together an expedition into the Deep Roads and were hoping that as a Grey Warden you'd know of some entrances that wouldn't be common knowledge."

The man scoffed. "I'd be happy if I never had to think about the Grey Wardens or the accursed Deep Roads again. Bastards made me give up my cat, Ser Pounce-a-lot."

"Wait, you had a cat named Ser Pounce-a-lot?" Varric asked with a chuckle.

"Yeah, they said he made me too soft."

Misery shrugged. "No substitute for a mabari, that's for sure."

"I'll have you know he swatted a genlock in the nose once, drew blood! Almost got torn apart though…" he added almost as an afterthought.

"Anyway, Blondie, can you help us out with a Deep Roads entrance?" Varric asked, steering the conversation back on track.

"Blondie? The name is Anders." He crossed his arms over his chest, his expression turning to one of contemplation. "I do have some Grey Warden maps of the area that have Deep Roads entrances marked. But…"

Misery fought the urge to scowl. _There is always a 'but' in this town…_ "How much do you want for them?" she asked, sighing in resignation.

"Hmmm… how about a favor for a favor?"

Despite her favorable initial opinion of Anders falling somewhat, she nodded. "What do you want done?"

Anders began to pace. "I… came to Kirkwall to help a friend of mine, Karl Thekla. He is a mage, a prisoner in the Gallows. I had been exchanging letters with him through a maidservant, but the letters have stopped so I'm not sure if our plot to get him out has been discovered. I am going to try to find him at the Chantry tonight and free him before it is too late. I-I could use backup in case I run into trouble with templars."

"You want us to help you free him?" Misery asked.

Bethany looked at her sister nervously. "I am sympathetic, but messing with templars is a bad idea."

"You don't know what it's like!" Anders nearly shouted. "The conditions in the Gallows, how the mages in Kirkwall are treated for simply possessing their Maker-given abilities!"

Misery glared icily at Anders. "Do _not_ presume you know what we know or don't know about mages!"

Bethany sighed. She glanced around to make sure no one else was watching before stepping in front of Anders and holding out her hand. She allowed her power to flare, energy crackling around her open hand momentarily before she clenched her fist and stopped.

Anders' eyes opened wide before an expression of understanding took hold. "I see. Forgive me." He bowed his head, expressing contrition.

The female mage waved her hand, smiling gently. "I am Bethany Hawke."

"Varric Tethras," offered the dwarf behind her.

"Misery Hawke."

Anders raised an eyebrow quizzically. _Misery? I can't imagine what her mother's pregnancy must have been like to saddle her with a name like that._ He didn't speak this thought out loud though, instead opting to simply nod in acknowledgment and ask, "Is it a deal then?"

Misery glanced at her two companions. "Varric, I am fine with doing it but I will not take Bethany. She's right about not needing to get involved with templars. I also will not involve Aveline. I've promised not to involve her in anything illegal, which this most assuredly is. I can bring Revas along though."

Varric nodded before turning to Anders. "Okay, Blondie, you've got a deal. We'll help you with your friend in exchange for the maps."

"Excellent! Meet me outside the Chantry at 11:00 tonight and we'll go from there."


	3. My Name is Misery

"Huh?" began Bethany. "There's another one of those 'Gather Your Party' signs. Right here in the Viscount's Keep? I never noticed it before."

"Pretty sure this place was not a restaurant or tavern…" Misery offered sarcastically.

Varric sighed. "You know, you ladies don't have to just scream out 'I'm not from around here!' everywhere we go."

"Oh, come on, Varric," Bethany began in a teasing tone, "it's not like everyone doesn't immediately know we're Fereldan. Though for the life of me I have no idea how."

"It's the waves of awesomeness rolling off us..." Misery deadpanned.

Varric shook his head slightly. "Come on, let's go find your guard friend."

The group made its way to the second floor of the keep and strolled towards the barracks housing the city guard. Walking down the steps into the barracks, Misery started giggling.

"What?" Varric asked.

"'Good luck getting in, I've been waiting all day'," she answered in a smarmy tone before giggling again. "We walked right in without waiting for anything."

Varric began laughing. "You're evil, Hawke, you know that?"

"Yeah, that is number seventeen on my list of shortcomings."

"Aveline!" Bethany called out when she saw their friend staring at a message board on the wall.

The redheaded warrior glanced over briefly before returning her attention to the board. "Hello, Hawkes," she said in a slightly bored tone.

"I am so excited to see you too!" Misery exclaimed in mock excitement.

Aveline turned towards her, frowning slightly. "Sorry, feels like I just saw you, but I guess that was just the report I got back on you."

"Spying again, are we?"

"Don't act so surprised, after everything we've been through together you know I'm going to keep an eye on you."

Misery nodded. "Only I can't tell if you mean that as a good thing or not."

"How is city guard life treating you?" Bethany asked, redirecting the conversation.

Aveline shrugged. "It'd be better if they had me doing something useful." She gestured to the message board. "Look at the patrol schedule. I've got glorified babysitting… again." She sighed in frustration. Misery looked over at the duty roster and saw that Aveline had been assigned to a cushy Hightown route. After a few moments the guard glanced over at Misery. "You interested in a job?"

Misery flashed an incredulous glare. "As a guard? _Me_?"

"No, no… not becoming a guard. More like a freelancer helping me out with something. We have a discretionary fund for this type of thing, so you'd get paid."

"What do you have in mind?"

Aveline glanced around to make sure no one was within earshot. "I've heard some strange reports about a merchant caravan coming across Sundermount and a delivery involving one of our guards. I suspect highwaymen are planning an ambush, but Captain Jeven doesn't want to send anyone to investigate."

"Oh, we need to go to Sundermount anyway!" Bethany exclaimed, causing Aveline to look curiously at the two girls. "The amulet," she finally said knowingly. The sisters nodded.

"Can you leave day after tomorrow?" Aveline asked. "We can continue on from the ambush site to the Dalish."

Misery nodded again. "That is fine. I've got to do a job of sorts tonight, but after that I can work on getting ready for the trip."

"Need any help with it? Nothing going on here right now, so I'm here if you need me."

The rogue bit her bottom lip, glancing down. "Sorry, it's one of those jobs you can't help with."

Aveline knew what that meant and sighed in exasperation. "Maker's breath, Hawke."

Misery scowled slightly. "I am protecting you, remember?"

The two women's eyes locked in a short staredown. Both of them were flashing back to the first of the arguments in question. The one where Misery went against Aveline's wishes and opted to go into indentured servitude with the elven smuggler Athenril rather than the Red Iron mercenary group led by the human man Meeran. The one that led not only to Aveline making it exceedingly clear she wanted no part of Athenril's gang, but going so far as to back out the following day and proclaim that she'd find a different way to pay back her share of the bribe money that got them into Kirkwall. It was one of several the two women had engaged in regarding Misery's activities and Aveline's willingness to participate in them.

-==0==-

"_Come on, Hawke, she's a smuggler and who knows what else! You know it's going to be a year of skirting the law!" Aveline protested._

"_Aveline, both of our choices here suck. But you can't seriously think that doing a contract murder for Meeran is more lawful and honorable than intimidating a shady merchant into paying up what he already owes Athenril anyway?"_

"_Owes Athenril? She is extorting him! And you can't seriously think that at the end of the year the amount of illegal work is going to be less with Athenril?"_

"_And you think Meeran will not hesitate to pin the murder on us when the city guard comes asking questions? We will have no protection, technically we'd be doing it before we were even members of his group!"_

_Aveline frowned. "Still… smuggling, extortion, and whatever else? I don't like it one bit."_

_Mireille glared at the warrior. "You want to go kill that noble for no good reason, be my guest! Otherwise shut the fuck up because I've made my decision."_

"_Miri…" Bethany began, but before the mage could say anything else, Mireille rounded on her._

"_Do not start with me, Bethany! The ONLY thing keeping me from giving into the temptation to forget Kirkwall and take my chances with Starkhaven is my promise to Father to take care of the family!"_

"_We've already had this discussion, Miri, we can't ask Mother to travel any further at this point!"_

_Mireille sneered. "Who said anything about taking Mother? I meant going to Starkhaven on my own."_

"_Please don't hate Mother. She doesn't mean what she says. She is just… having a hard time coping with everything that has happened."_

_Mireille stalked away without replying, heading towards the merchant booth setup in the Gallows that seemingly functioned mainly to exploit desperate refugees. _

_Aveline sighed deeply. "Wait, Hawke. I'm with you…" she said grudgingly._

_Mireille stopped and turned to face Aveline. "Look, Aveline, if your concern is about doing illegal things, then don't do them. Help us out with the legal stuff and I'll keep you shielded from the illegal stuff."_

"_Then I'm not exactly paying off my share of the debt then, am I?"_

"_Bethany and I are on the hook for a year either way, so I really could not care less." With that she turned and resumed walking._

_A little while later, the two sisters and Aveline returned to Athenril. The elf's eyes opened wide in surprise when the raven haired human rogue smirked and held out two sovereigns. She really hadn't expected these refugees to pull off the job successfully._

"_Nicely done," Athenril remarked, smirking as she reined in her initial surprise. "Welcome aboard. What are your names? Assuming of course you want to be called something other than Gamlen's nieces."_

_Mireille winced at the reminder that she was related to the lecherous weasel. She'd felt dirty just from the old man's gaze, which was far too lingering and appreciative of her and her sister's bodies. Shaking her head she gestured to her companions. "This is Bethany, and this is Aveline." _

_Her expression turned dark as she recalled the scolding she'd taken from her mother a short time earlier in front of their uncle. _

"_Why must you be a constant source of misery for everyone around you?" her mother had asked scornfully in response to Mireille going off on Uncle Gamlen first for his snide, insulting remarks to her mother, and then again for his grand plan to sell Bethany and her into indentured servitude for a year to pay the family's way into the city. _

_She'd leapt to her mother's defense and her mother in return called her a source of misery. Her mother had also called her miserable when Mireille protested the stinging accusation of it being her fault that Carver fell to the darkspawn. _

_And Mireille recalled the times in the previous days that her mother had rather hatefully told her to stop being so miserable about everything while they did nothing but sit around helplessly waiting for that guard to find and bring their uncle to meet them. She gritted her teeth in anger at everything that was her life right now. _

"_Miri?" Bethany said softly at the sight of her sister's near trembling form. Mireille didn't answer._

_Aware that Athenril was still waiting for her to introduce herself, Mireille pulled her gaze from the ground in front of her. She looked down into the eyes of the shorter elven woman, her own aqua eyes taking on a wild quality. An almost feral grin crept across Mireille's face. _

"_My name is… Misery. Misery Hawke."_

-==0==-

Aveline finally sighed and waved her hand, breaking the staredown with the rogue. The rogue was just as stubborn as she was, and she knew which battles to pick with her friend and which ones to let go. "Just… be careful, okay?"

Misery nodded solemnly. "I will, Aveline. Meet us in the Hanged Man morning after next at nine and we'll leave for Sundermount." They chatted for a few more minutes, during which the Hawkes introduced Aveline to Varric.

As the Hawkes and Varric began to leave, Aveline called out. "Oh, Misery?" When the rogue glanced back, silently prompting her to continue, Aveline added, "Bring Revas with you. Getting to run in the great outdoors will do the poor dog some good. Mabaris aren't meant to be kept indoors lying around."

"He'll be glad to know you're looking out for his wellbeing too," Misery replied with a smirk.

-==0==-

Bethany and Misery exchanged glances. Approaching the door to Gamlen's house they could hear the shouting match taking place inside. _Here we go again…_ the older girl thought cynically before opening the door and entering.

"Surely Mother and Father must have at least mentioned me in the will!" Leandra shouted, her tone a mixture of bitterness and sorrow. _Mother is still obsessed with that damned will_, Misery thought.

Gamlen sneered. "You ran off to Ferelden with that _apostate_! And you never even came back to visit. You don't get to stay the favorite when you do that!"

"Be _very _careful what you say about my father and how you say it," Misery warned in a low voice.

"Well it's the truth anyway," Gamlen replied acerbically. "She was _supposed _to marry the Comte de Launcet. Not some runaway mage."

"His name was Malcolm Hawke. You would be wise to remember it, _Uncle_."

Leandra sighed in exasperation. "That is enough, Mireille."

"No, Mother, it is not!" Misery's temper was already rising quickly. "I will defend Father even if you will not!"

"The way you defended your brother?" _My poor Carver…_ she lamented silently.

Misery seethed. She had to. It was the only thing that held her together when her mother got this way. "I get it, _Mother_. You wish I had died in Carver's place. I swear, Andraste as my witness, _I _wish I had died in his place. But I am here and he is not, and that will not change no matter how much you hate me for it."

Leandra stared at her eldest child in shock. "I-I…" _I do not hate you, Love…_ she thought, but was too stunned at her daughter's outburst to voice that in protest.

Waving her hand dismissively, Misery snatched the letters that had come for her over the last several days off the table by the door and stormed into the small bedroom she shared with Bethany. If the room had actually had a door on it she would have slammed it behind her. Instead she flopped on the bottom bunk of the bed and tore into the correspondence. Her anger only intensified at seeing the sender of the letter on the bottom of the pile, and despite the temptation to simply burn it she went ahead and opened it.

_Hawke,__  
><em>_Your year's up and you're free to go. Despite what you think, we had a good thing working together. I might pass along an opportunity or two, if you're willing to get your hands dirty. Stay safe._

_Athenril_

She scoffed openly at the contents. _You're the one who fucked everything up_, she silently replied before moving on to the next letter. Her eyes narrowed at the sight of it also being from her former _employer_.

_Hawke,  
>You might be interested in something that's come up. A contact of mine, a fellow by the name of Anso, is asking around for someone competent regarding a job, and I suggested you. He's always paid well, so if I were you, I'd check into it before someone else snaps it up. He said he'll be in the Lowtown Bazaar at night.<em>

_Athenril_

Misery was torn. On the one hand, she wanted nothing at all to do with Athenril. On the other hand, the elf was suggesting the job would pay well and Misery definitely needed the coin. However, it could just as easily be a trap. Or, it could also just be Athenril trying to get back on her good side.

It wasn't like their relationship had been contentious prior to the _incident_, so it wasn't beyond the realm of possibility that Athenril wanted to make things up to her. And what Tomwise had alluded to was accurate: Athenril's success over the last year was largely a result of what Misery and Bethany had accomplished for her. Their exit had definitely left a talent void that made her standing against the Coterie more precarious. Still… Athenril was number two on her list of people to get away with killing for good reason.

_Maybe I will at least talk to this Anso and see what the job is before making a decision. Maker help that bitch if this is a setup though…_

Misery took a small measure of comfort at seeing Revas amble into the room and lay down quietly beside the bed while she read. The mabari had imprinted on her when she met him during a trip to Redcliffe for supplies with her father. She still remembered it vividly. It was complete chance that it had happened, as the only reason they'd even gone to the kennels at Redcliffe Castle was to kill time while waiting for a couple of their orders to be filled.

The imprinting had been completely unintentional, and at the time she didn't understand the significance of it. She was having the time of her life playing with the pup while her father watched along with one of the kennel workers, but she thought that's all it was - play. They weren't even in the market for a dog, nor had she ever really contemplated having one. And though it had been the mabari that imprinted on the nearly fifteen year old Mireille Hawke, it still cost her father a small fortune to actually acquire the pup of champion stock from Arl Eamon's kennel master.

Mireille had been old enough to know that the cost was going to put the family in a fairly serious financial bind, but her father's sheer joy and enthusiasm for her had crushed the initial pangs of guilt she'd felt when she walked up to discover him paying the woman who ran the kennels.

She in turn honored her father by naming the dog _Revas_. It was a word she'd learned while reading a copy of the elven eulogy _In Uthenera _in the Lothering Chantry, the translator's notes indicating the word _revas_ meant 'freedom' in the elven language. Freedom was what drove Malcolm Hawke – freedom for himself, freedom for his family.

Between her father and the dog she'd never felt more loved. Even now, when she was in the mood for reflection she'd think back on that day. It was the single best day of her life. And then she'd miss her father even more.

-==0==-

After giving her sister a bit to cool down, Bethany quietly entered the room and sat down on the bed next to her.

"She does love you," she said softly.

Misery scoffed. "I have never been good enough in her eyes. I never measured up to you and Carver."

"Miri, do you resent me for it?"

"Maker, no! Well… maybe at times when we were younger and you'd use that to get me in trouble." She smirked at her sister briefly before her expression turned serious. "Bethany…" she whispered, "you and Revas are all I have. Mother… I will suffer her insults and protect her anyway because I promised Father, even if she wants to forget him in her obsession to be Leandra Amell again."

Bethany shook her head. "Mother is not forgetting Father. I've had a lot of long talks with her about him, and she still misses him terribly. Look, you and I have been inside Hightown estates before. You've seen what Mother gave up to go on the run with Father, what she sacrificed for the lifestyle we had in Ferelden."

"Then why does she allow Uncle to refer to him so derisively? And when was the last time you heard her refer to herself as a 'Hawke'? All I hear anymore is 'Amell this, Amell that'."

"Despite where they are now, Mother and Uncle grew up nobility. You know how nobles are, to them Father was a lowborn, carried the stigma of being a mage, and so on. It doesn't mean she loved Father any less, it's just the reality of their stations in life versus his."

"Hmph!"

Bethany sighed gently. "I know it looks bad that Mother talks so much about restoring the Amell name, and about the will, but she is very hurt by the thought that her parents never forgave her for taking off with Father and cut her and us off completely. But she knows that when it comes to telling the truth, Uncle is not exactly the most reliable tool in the shed."

"Ha! The man can't say 'good morning' without lying twice. Mother and Uncle argue so often about the will that I just want to go get the damned thing to shut her up."

"Funny you say that… Mother gave me her old key, said it would unlock the cellar door that can be reached through a passageway accessible from Darktown. From there we can get to the vault room and recover the will. I think we should do it."

Misery glanced at her sister curiously. "If they know the will is in the family's old vault, why can't she simply go over there and ask for it?"

"I was talking to Mother and she told me she'd found out the Amell estate had been taken over by slavers. Slavers! Can you imagine?"

"I _imagine _no one will care then if we go over there and kill every single one of those bastards. No one should rob another of their freedom for no other reason than simply because they can."

Bethany smiled gently, leaning over and wrapping her sister up in an embrace. "Father would be so proud of you." If there was one concept he'd drilled into their heads, it was that unless someone was proven to be a criminal, all people deserved to be free.

Thinking back to earlier, the mage softly added, "And you know… Maker knows he'd see that Carver gave himself up to protect us, that there was nothing any of us could have done differently to save him."

Misery exhaled a deep breath, pulling away. "I am trying so hard not hate him…" she admitted.

"Father?"

"Carver," the older sister replied, shaking her head. "For everything I have suffered since his death. Mother immediately accused me of letting him charge to his death, and she reminds me of it so often that I've never had a real chance to mourn him. I… I was so proud of Carver. Even though he died, he did exactly what Father would've done… he did not even hesitate to go after that ogre to protect us all. I, on the other hand, froze until it was too late…"

"Hey… you can't blame yourself. That is not fair to either you or Carver."

"When… wh-when Mother starts carrying on about Carver I get so… defensive. It is almost like he is a rival, and he's not even alive to actually compete with… I know I should not feel that way, it is not his fault and he would not have wanted this."

"I miss him dearly. It truly feels like part of me is missing with him gone."

Misery sighed deeply, feelings of inadequacy bubbling below the surface. "You were twins, you shared something special."

Her brother and sister could fight like cats and dogs at times, but always had a bond that ran deeper than with anyone else. Misery briefly recalled the time when the twins were maybe seven and Father was scolding Carver for having beaten up a nine year old boy for teasing Bethany, a boy who happened to be the son of the mayor of the village they'd moved to just weeks earlier. She remembered watching Carver straighten his back in defiance and declare that _he _was the only one that was allowed to pick on his sister. And how Father immediately ordered Carver to his room so the young boy wouldn't see him crack up laughing. Misery knew Bethany had felt much the same towards Carver.

Bethany embraced her sister once more. "I swear I would feel the same way if you were gone. I know because in some ways it already happened when I lost Miri to Misery."

"At first… I know at first calling myself 'Misery' was out of spite. But I know now that Mother was right… it's what I am," the older girl admitted. "I haven't been 'Miri' for a long time."

"B-but… it- it is not too late for Miri to come back… you don't have to stay like this."

"It is more than simply changing my name, Bethany. Going by Mireille again will not change anything. It is not like I am an actor playing a role, or like calling myself 'Misery' made me a different person than I already was. I can't simply snap my fingers and turn into the person you think I should be."

Bethany took a deep breath. Her sister speaking at least hypothetically about using her given name again gave the young mage a twinkling of hope. "Can we at least start with the name? Please?"

"Why? It is all anyone in Kirkwall knows me as. Besides, seeing people's facial expressions when I tell them my name amuses me."

"Because... because I know that... even if you don't believe it, my Miri is not gone. She may be hidden away in a dark, forgotten corner of your soul, but I _know _she is in there."

A minute elapsed in silence. When it became apparent that her sister wasn't going to say anything in reply, the tears Bethany had been fighting broke loose. Misery sighed, but still held her younger sister close. She closed her eyes and wondered how she'd managed to harden her own heart to the point where she couldn't feel anything beyond a twinge of regret for not being able to be a better sister.

Bethany gradually got control of her emotions, and once she did she whispered, "I can never repay you for everything you've sacrificed for me over the years, and I know I haven't always shown how much I appreciate you. But I swear this to you now, Miri. I will fight to get you back. I will save you from the darkness you are in."

Misery didn't bother replying, merely exhaling slowly while pulling away and lying down on her back. As far as she was concerned there was nothing to save her from. But she wasn't in the mood to debate it any further, and anyway she rather liked that Bethany wasn't a cynical wretch like her.

The younger girl blinked back fresh tears. Not willing to let it go, she pushed herself forward and wrapped her arms around her sister while lying her head on her chest, the crown of her head resting under Misery's chin. "I promise…" she whispered.

Misery made no move to push her sister away, content to let her cling to her naive hope. Bethany slowly relaxed and the last of her sniffles stopped. After roughly ten minutes like this she could tell the younger girl was starting to fall asleep and resisted the urge to make a sarcastic remark about Bethany being a bit too old to share a bed with her like they did at times as kids. Instead, she sighed lightly and closed her own eyes.

Knowing she had a couple of hours until she needed to meet Varric on the way to helping Anders, Misery allowed herself to drift off as well. But not before smirking about the position she and Bethany were in while thinking to herself, _Subtract a layer or two of clothing and this is probably the start of one of dear Uncle Gamlen's wet dreams._

-==0==-

"The Black Emporium, eh?" asked Varric as he, Misery, and Revas approached a non-descript door at the end of a seemingly abandoned alley in the shadows of the great stairs marking the boundary between Lowtown and Hightown.

"Yeah, I've never heard of it either, but I got a letter from the proprietor inviting me to the store. Probably can't afford to buy anything, but it will not hurt to take a look. And it is on the way to Hightown anyway."

The trio entered the store, taking in the sight of a massive stone golem and a strange looking kid flanking the hallway leading in, and what could only be the owner greeting them in a deep, rumbling voice.

"Welcome to the Black Emporium. I am Xenon the Antiquarian, at your service."

Misery raised an eyebrow curiously. "Wow, that is pretty hardcore," she whispered to Varric.

"What is?"

"I don't know what a quarian is, but he must really hate them to just go around declaring he is against them like that."

"Uhhh… come again?"

Misery smirked. "It would be like me going around introducing myself as 'Misery the Antistupid'."

"Ummm, Hawke? An antiquarian is like a collector of antiques. It has nothing to do with being against someone."

"Ohhh… well, fine then, go ahead and ruin my joke." She flashed a grin that caused Varric to blink in surprise. _Was that… playfulness out of her? _A moment later he chuckled, shaking his head slightly.

Walking up to a statue of an underdressed Andraste, Varric reached out and touched the shoulder of it.

"Please don't fondle Andraste!" came the warning from Xenon.

"Wow, that sounds wrong on so many levels," Misery whispered to Varric between giggles. "I think that will be my new response though whenever someone does something wrong."

Varric laughed along with her before continuing on, thinking how much better he liked this side of her than what he'd previously seen. Next he noticed a bin marked 'Discarded Weapons and Armor'.

"Hey, Hawke, check this out. Some nice stuff here."

Misery glanced inside. Her eyes were immediately drawn to a menacing looking dagger. She picked it up, twirling it and marveling at the balance. "How much does this cost?" she called out to Xenon. "I do not see a price tag."

"All equipment in the discarded bin costs one bit."

"One bit? Are you serious?" Misery's eyes were open wide in astonishment.

After Xenon confirmed the cost, the rogue quickly grabbed a nice looking leather cuirass from the bin to go along with the dagger. After a moment's thought she started grabbing everything, figuring she'd simply resell what she didn't need and make a little extra coin in the process.

"That dagger looks high enough quality to be enchanted with a rune," Varric noted. "If they don't sell runes here, I know a guy in Hightown that makes them, and another guy that does the actual enchantment."

Misery nodded. "Let's keep looking around."

They came across a large mirror. "What is this thing?" Misery asked.

"The Mirror of Transformation," Xenon answered in a tone that inspired both wonderment and fear. "It is an insidious, twisted device, one that changes the person you were and will be."

"Hawke, for some reason I'm experiencing a weird sense of déjà vu. I feel like we've been here before. Except I'm picturing you as a man for some reason."

Misery looked at Varric quizzically. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

Varric shrugged. "Nah… nevermind…"

In another part of the store, the rogue's eyes fell upon a high quality red cedar elven longbow, which made it longer than the shortbows she was used to but not as long as a typical human longbow. She read the description on the tag, that it was a replica of an Arlathan bow.

Her eyes gleamed, she wanted it. However, she flipped the tag over and winced at the price – nearly eight sovereigns. She stared at the bow for a few moments before glancing around. She noted Varric looking at some runes, and a few other customers mingling about.

Varric looked over to see Hawke looking at him, and went over to see what she was doing. "You looking at getting anything else?" he asked. "I've got a lightning rune here for your new dagger."

Misery shrugged noncommittally. Digging a few silvers out of her pack, she handed them to Varric. "Go ahead and pay for this stuff, we can always come back later. I want to check something out while you're doing that, so I'll meet you outside."

Varric looked at her curiously but nodded and walked off. The female rogue waited until Xenon was occupied with Varric, then picked up the Arlathan bow and slung it over her back. Revas whined low.

"Do not start with me," she whispered. While a couple of customers were making faces at the golem trying to get it react and Varric was paying for the other things, Misery put her head down and strode towards the exit.

Her heart rate spiked as she passed between the golem and the little urchin, and she focused on keeping her expression casually neutral. The boy eyed her curiously, and she quickly forced a smile and said, "My husband is paying for this stuff," while gesturing towards Varric at the counter with Xenon. The urchin didn't speak, and when the preoccupied golem made no move to stop her either she continued walking towards the door.

As soon as she closed the door behind her and felt the cool breeze of the night air on her face, she exhaled the breath she'd been holding and immediately slipped into the shadows to avoid anyone potentially following her out. Revas followed, and though not nearly as stealthy, he stood quietly at her side while they waited for Varric.

The dwarf exited the Black Emporium, a perplexed expression taking hold as he didn't see his companion. "Hawke?" he called out.

"Over here, Varric," she replied, stepping out of the shadows and getting his attention. "Let's go."

Varric started to ask her what was going on, but as his mouth opened to speak he saw the bow on her back and everything clicked. He whistled low. "You stole the bow," he stated matter-of-factly while falling in step with her. Misery didn't reply.

"We could've found a way to buy it, you know," he said with slight disapproval. "How much was it anyway?"

"Almost eight sovereign," she answered, causing him to whistle again.

"Okay, so maybe we couldn't have paid for it." He sighed. "Guess we won't be shopping there again anytime soon." When she didn't reply, he added, "By the way, Xenon said that dagger is called _Song of Sorrows_ if you care." _Kind of fitting the new owner if you ask me_.

"Thank you, Varric," she said simply, continuing towards Hightown.

-==0==-

"You came!" Anders exclaimed with more surprise in his voice than he intended.

"Surprised?" Misery asked sarcastically, climbing the last step before the entrance to the Chantry.

Anders smiled sheepishly. "Sorry… I wasn't sure. Anyway, I saw Karl go inside a few minutes ago."

"Templars?" Varric asked.

Anders shook his head. "I haven't seen any. Hopefully we'll be able to get Karl and quietly slip out of here." He opened the door to go inside.

Misery winced at the sound of metal door hinges creaking loudly as the door opened. _Quietly is not off to a good start_. Shaking her head, she followed Anders in.

Walking slowly down the hall, warning bells began going off in her mind. Suddenly she realized this all felt very wrong.

"Anders?" she whispered.

"Uh huh?"

"Why is Karl in the Chantry?"

Anders stopped and turned to face the rogue. "What do you mean?"

"I _mean_, mages are basically prisoners right? So why would Karl be walking around the Chantry this late at night by himself? Shouldn't he be in the Gallows with the other mages? And just as relevant is how you knew he'd be here when you said earlier that you'd lost contact with him. It does not add up."

Anders considered the question. "You… are right. I know from my contacts in the mage underground that he's been at the Chantry at this time nearly every night recently. But I don't know why."

"What are you thinking, Hawke?" Varric asked.

Misery shrugged. "It could be nothing, but this does not feel right to me. Stay alert."

Once again the dwarf found himself impressed with the sharpness of her mind. _Better step up my game..._

-==0==-

Misery breathed loudly, trying to fight down the panic. Things had gone horribly wrong. Around them lay the bodies of a dozen dead templars that they'd been forced to fight after discovering Karl had not only been made tranquil, but had tipped the templars off about Anders, causing them to walk right into an ambush.

_Dead templars right here in the Chantry! We can't hide this! There is no way we will get away with this!_ She screamed silently to herself.

Nearly as bad had been Anders flipping out and acting demon possessed the way his eyes began to glow a deep blue and his voice changed to sound like a completely different person. She could hear him talking to Karl now, sounding very pained, but her own mind was racing too much to pay attention to what they were saying. Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"You okay, Hawke?"

"Varric…" she whispered. "This is really bad. I do not see how we can cover up what happened here."

Varric nodded solemnly. "This was a setup. Blondie doesn't seem to be taking it well."

Misery glanced over. She noted the expressions on the two men's faces and realized that Anders and Karl were obviously more than just _friends_.

"You have to kill me, Anders! It's fading, please do it now!" Karl exclaimed. Anders looked pained, but nodded solemnly.

"Wait, what?" Varric asked. "Why does he want you to kill him?"

Anders glared at the dwarven rogue. "Being made tranquil is worse than death! No mage would want to live like this! Killing him is a _mercy_!"

"Whatever is going to happen, it needs to happen fast," Misery interjected. "We need to get out of here."

Anders nodded, adding, "Besides, a tranquil is just a puppet of the Chantry. Even if he doesn't want to, Karl will be compelled to name names and tell them everything that happened here. We'll all be done for." He turned his attention back to Karl.

"Why are you looking at me like that, Anders?" Karl asked, his tone now devoid of the emotion he'd previously shown and was back to having the flat monotone quality typical of tranquil mages. Whatever Anders had done that enabled Karl to temporarily feel the Fade again was gone.

"Goodbye, Karl," Anders offered in an equally flat tone, one that expressed resignation to the outcome.

Misery blinked as Anders produced a dagger out of nowhere (_Where was he possibly hiding that thing all this time?_) and planted it in his lover's chest. "I'm sorry, Karl," he whispered as he laid the man down and closed his eyes.

Anders took off immediately without waiting for the others. Misery growled angrily at the Grey Warden mage leaving them behind like that, but didn't bother to follow him. She'd wait and make a trip to his clinic in the morning. Maybe she wouldn't be in such a mood to want to hurt him by then.

"All I can say is that he damned well better have those maps for us," she muttered. She glanced around one more time and sighed bitterly. "No way we can clean this up. Fuck it… let's get out of here."

Varric nodded. "Right behind you, Hawke."


	4. Trust Issues and Half Naked Seafarers

As she, Revas, and Varric moved through the eastern part of Hightown towards the great stairs leading back to Lowtown following the events at the Chantry, Misery caught out of the corner of her eye the sight of a man stumbling out of a doorway. In the dim lighting of the late night she couldn't tell if he stumbled because he was pushed or if it was because he was drunk.

"And take a bath before you come back!" shouted a woman from just inside the door right before she slammed it shut. _Definitely pushed…_ Misery thought, amending her previous inconclusiveness.

"Uncle Gamlen, imagine finding you here!" she announced loudly in a sarcasm laced tone.

Gamlen, who had been scowling at the closed door to the Blooming Rose, turned nervously towards his niece. "Uhhh… what are _you _doing here?"

"Escorting _you _home, apparently. Get thrown out of the Rose again?"

"Wh-what? No! I j-just… oh, nevermind!" He started walking towards the great stairs.

Not actually intending to escort him but heading in the same direction anyway, Misery resumed walking without saying anything else. After a few minutes, Gamlen cleared his throat.

"Ummm… look… there's really no need to say anything about this to your mother, okay? She doesn't understand that a man needs to blow off a little steam every now and then."

Misery smirked. "Or damned near every night as it were." When he looked at her with a startled expression, she added, "You think I don't know how often you go there? From what I've heard you spent half the family fortune on whores and booze, and gambled the other half away."

"W-w-well… maybe I did indulge more than I should've, but I didn't piss _all _of it away. I tried to invest some… had a tip about Qunari cheeses… didn't turn out as well as I'd planned…" He trailed off into silence.

"Anyway, Uncle, I do not care enough to get Mother started on another one of her self-righteous speeches. And if _blowing off steam_ at the Rose is enough to keep your dirty mind off of Bethany and me, then I care even less."

Gamlen's face turned red in embarrassment, even more so because of the accusation being made in front of her dwarven friend. But the rising anger quickly swallowed that up. Before he could protest verbally, however, Varric interrupted.

"Heads up, Hawke," Varric warned in a low voice. "We've got company."

Misery turned her attention towards the area at the bottom of the great stairs. It was hardly uncommon to run into gangs of thugs in the streets of Kirkwall at night. It appeared by the markings on their clothing that the eight or so armed men and women loitering around were members of the Sharps Highwaymen, one of the gangs trying to takeover Lowtown.

"Uncle!" she hissed at the sight of Gamlen turning away and continuing to descend the stairs. When he didn't stop right away she leapt forward to grab him by the collar and yanked him back, dumping him unceremoniously on his rear on the steps.

"Wh-what the-" Gamlen started angrily before she cut him off.

"Stay down!" she warned before gesturing towards the thugs, who were already aware of their presence and not so subtly moving into position to intercept them at the bottom of the stairs. "Brigands… stay here out of the way."

Gamlen noted the positively glacial quality of her aqua eyes and nodded tentatively.

-==0==-

"Game plan?" Varric asked. The Sharps were making no move to ascend the steps and close the roughly 200 foot gap between them, but they were clearly interested in the travelers coming down from Hightown.

Misery sighed lightly. "I wish I actually had some arrows with me to fire from this fancy new bow," she began, motioning with her thumb towards the Arlathan bow on her back. "But since I don't, Revas and I will attack in close combat. The stairs are narrow. We can use that to our advantage to keep them from coming at us all at once. If you see any archers, make sure you take them down first. The stairs will do us no good as a chokepoint if we just get picked off at range."

"Got it."

It wasn't the time to say anything, but Varric's opinion of Misery had gone up. To say she could be volatile was an understatement, but he was seeing why her reputation in Kirkwall's underworld was as high as it was. Danger only made her ability to think on her feet and adapt on the fly all the more apparent.

And it wasn't lost on him that despite her obvious dislike for her uncle, she hadn't hesitated to protect him. It was the type of reaction that spoke volumes because it was instinctual, not born from any sort of conscious thought processes. Heck, if it was a conscious decision she'd probably have opted to just let him go. With a brother like Bartrand, Varric could completely relate to detesting family but still putting yourself on the line for them without a second thought.

They continued down the stairs until they were about fifty feet from the bottom. At that point the highwaymen began to show more threatening postures. Varric stopped and pulled Bianca from his back and snapped her into combat position. "I have you covered, Hawke."

Misery drew her daggers and continued to descend the steps. In her left hand was the new _Song of Sorrows. _In her right was _Cruel_, the trusty old dagger given its name by an acquaintance after Misery used it to torture a smalltime rival of Athenril's. She'd quite literally carved the man up until he revealed the location of a couple of elven preteens he'd kidnapped with the intention of selling into slavery. And when the man finally did cave into the torture and begged for Misery to stop, she got the information she needed and then calmly slit his throat.

Revas barked softly, at least softly for a mabari. Misery chuckled. "I know, but that will not stand in my way. I will just have to improvise."

The leader of this group of Sharps swaggered over and stood on the first step to block the way, making a sweeping gesture with his arms to point out his advantage. "Come now," he began in a cordial tone indicative of his cool confidence, "there is no need for this to get violent. Pay the toll of ten silvers and you can continue on your way."

Misery frowned as she glanced around at the group of thugs. Finally she nodded and sheathed her daggers. She reached into her pouch and withdrew some coins, demonstrably sighing as she jiggled them around in her right hand. The Sharps leader smiled in amusement as he held out his hand to accept the payment.

"That's a good girl…" he said in a patronizing tone.

She reached over and dropped the coins onto his hand.

The coins had barely left her hand when she snatched the highwayman's wrist and yanked him towards her while simultaneously drawing the knife from the sheath above her left hip. In one fluid motion she spun the knife around and buried it into the base of the thug's throat even before the coins began clinking on the stone beneath their feet. His eyes grew wide for the briefest of moments before he crumpled over dead.

Misery quickly redrew her daggers, sneering at the group in front of her. A woman screeched and charged the rogue, only to be cut down by Varric before she even reached the steps. An arrow whistled by Misery's head, narrowly missing before ricocheting off the stone behind her.

"Archer!" she shouted to her dwarven companion while backing up a few steps.

Revas leaped to intercept a charging enemy, hitting him in the chest and knocking him down. The mabari clawed at the man who was already fighting a losing battle against the strong beast.

A quartet of thugs climbed onto the stairs, though there was only enough space side to side for them to stand two abreast. Misery intended to use that along with her slightly higher ground to her advantage. She kicked one attacker in the chest, knocking him back into the woman behind him, and then slashed his throat.

Misery turned to chop at the foe slightly to her right when an arrow bored through her armor and dug deeply into the upper part of her chest, just below her right collarbone. The impact interrupted her attack and knocked her off balance.

"Varric!" she screeched. "Get that fucking archer down, now!"

"I'm working on it!" Varric shouted back.

The thug closest to the raven haired rogue took advantage of the opening and lunged forward, tackling her on the stairs. Misery swung her elbow and connected with the thug's face. She reared back to do it again, but the man grasped the shaft of the arrow stuck in her chest and pulled sideways, the twisting motion tearing additional internal tissue and causing Misery's attack to hit weakly while she hissed from the pain.

The thug kept up the assault, jamming a gauntlet under her chin and forcing her head back against a stone step. He pressed hard against her throat while continuing to work the embedded arrow.

Misery struggled both to maintain consciousness and to fight back, and knew she was losing ground. She was vaguely aware that at least a couple of thugs had moved past her to get at Varric. Suddenly she heard her attacker gasp briefly and felt the weight of him that had been pressing down on her leave. Through slightly unfocused eyes she saw Revas crouched low in front of her. He growled and pounced on another thug.

She glanced at the one who had been attacking her while unconsciously rubbing her throat. His neck was bloodied and bent at a very unnatural angle. The powerful mabari had clearly snapped the man's neck in the process of ripping him off of her.

Misery quickly regained focus and tore the arrow out of her chest, grimacing from the pain. She snatched the bow off her back as her eyes rapidly scanned the impromptu battlefield. Finally locking on to her target, she notched the arrow and drew it back, grimacing again from her wounded chest protesting the exertion. Still, she maintained her concentration through the draw and let fly, returning the enemy archer's arrow to sender. Her aim was true. The projectile pierced the archer's neck, staggering the foe for several seconds until he collapsed.

The rogue took in the situation around her. Varric was trying to hold off a pair of thugs, while Revas was mauling another one. He was coated in blood, but she wasn't sure if any of it was his own. A woman was trying to get close enough to attack the mabari from behind while he was engaged with her companion, and the last thug was charging towards Misery.

She jumped over the dead body at her feet and swung the bow in her left hand. The momentum behind the chop knocked the thug back. Misery drew the knife above her right hip in a smooth motion and slid it into his ribcage before raking it sideways in a tearing motion, the serrated blade ripping open a large gash.

Misery then spun and whipped the knife at the female thug joining the attack against Revas. The knife hit her in the back hilt first and bounced off, but was enough to distract her attention. Turning back to the first foe, Misery delivered a spinning crescent kick to his blade hand to knock the dagger away, then took off running.

Reaching the fallen archer, Misery quickly removed the quiver of arrows and slung it over her back. She drew and notched an arrow while turning, noting the female thug previously attacking Revas was charging towards her and the male she'd wounded was fleeing. She wanted to take down the one trying to escape, but common sense prevailed and she cut loose the arrow at the more pressing concern.

It hit the thug squarely in the chest, stopping her in her tracks as the force behind it took her breath. Misery pulled another arrow and drew it back. She could see the expression of terror frozen on the woman's face. With a slight smirk she released her grip on the bowstring. The fifteen foot gap was practically point blank range, and the talented rogue was more than capable of landing a precision shot at that distance. The arrow struck the thug in the mouth, snapping teeth and carrying on through until the tip exited the back of the head. The woman fell backwards, dead before she even hit the ground.

Misery ran forward, yanking the arrow out of the dead woman's chest before racing back to the stairs. Revas had finished off his foe and was bounding up the stairs to help Varric. Misery debated launching the arrow in her hand at the final thug engaged with Varric, but the angle wasn't good in relation to Revas' position. So she opted not to risk hitting the mabari and just kept running towards them.

It didn't matter though. Varric ducked a swing and kicked the man in the knee, and then shoved him down the stairs into the charging mabari, who quickly finished him off.

With the threat eliminated, Misery slung her bow on her back, retrieved her blades from the ground and the first foe she'd felled, and began looting the bodies of valuables. Varric, Gamlen, and Revas came down the stairs while she was ransacking the dead.

"Is that really necessary?" Gamlen asked. He might have sunken quite low from his noble beginnings, but looting the dead was beyond what he would consider doing.

Misery glanced up, throwing a hard glare. "I think the words you were looking for were 'thank you for saving my sorry ass'." She continued with what she was doing.

"Uhhh, right… sorry." He was still annoyed with her for earlier, but having just witnessed the carnage she'd inflicted and her current expression, he wasn't going to do anything to provoke her.

Varric eased up to the rogue and offered a healing potion to her. "Sorry about the archer."

"Give it to Revas," she stated tersely. "And next time I tell you to take down a specific enemy you'd better fucking do it."

"Take the potion, Hawke. I've got another one for the dog."

"I am fine," she lied.

Varric sighed in exasperation. "Maker's breath, I know you're wounded. Stop being so damned stubborn."

Gamlen snorted. "Good luck with that. 'Stubborn' is her middle name."

"Misery Stubborn Hawke, that's me."

Varric decided on a different approach. He went over and helped Revas down a potion, then went back to Hawke. He reached over and grasped the rogue's shoulder. Even though he didn't quite get the exact wound site, it was close enough to make her gasp and immediately pull away.

She flashed a furious glare. "What the-"

"Take the potion," Varric said sternly, interrupting her. He met and held her piercing gaze, despite briefly wondering if by the intensity of the glare coming from her aqua eyes she was going to turn violent.

Rather than reply, she silently acquiesced and grabbed the potion from his hand, downing it quickly.

"Happy now?" she asked.

"You know you make it damned hard for people to want to help you?"

"Good..."

"Good? That makes no sense!"

Misery, having finished looting, stood up. "People are always quick to offer help when they want something from you. Then they abandon you when your usefulness runs out."

"Misery… I'm not going to abandon you."

"Oh? Are you to say you'd stick around and help me if I decided not to do Bartrand's expedition?"

When Varric didn't immediately reply, Misery turned and started walking further into Lowtown. "Thought so..." she called out without looking back.

-==0==-

Approaching the Hanged Man, Varric cleared his throat lightly. "Hey, Hawke, how about I buy you a drink?"

"Why?"

Varric laughed in disbelief at just how obstinate the rogue was. "Call me crazy, but I'm actually trying to be a friend. Kind of like how you're being, only the opposite."

Misery sighed, closing her eyes briefly. "No pestering me to tell my life story?"

"Andraste's ass, Hawke, it's just a drink." Varric was already starting to wish he hadn't bothered.

Misery knelt down in front of her mabari, closing her eyes and sighing gently as she rested her forehead on his.

"Go on back to the house with Uncle," she said. "I will be along after a drink or two."

Revas responded by licking her cheek, causing her to smile. "Thank you for being there for me," she whispered. Even though she spoke quietly, the dwarf overheard her. And he couldn't miss the pure warmth she was expressing. The thought that she was incapable of truly caring for anyone or anything but herself had crossed his mind a couple of times, but he realized now that wasn't the case.

_She obviously has some deep rooted issues when it comes to people though_, he thought.

-==0==-

Entering the Hanged Man, Varric tapped Misery on the arm and gestured towards the bar. Glancing over, the rogue noted a dark skinned female sitting on a stool and pouring herself a drink from a bottle of rotgut. She was surrounded by a quartet of what were most likely mercenaries, though they bore no readily identifiable emblems or markings that would associate them with a known group. Judging from the expressions on their faces, the young man that appeared to pass for the leader of this outfit was having a disagreement with the woman over something.

Misery glanced back at Varric and shrugged. It wasn't any of her business and she had no intention of getting involved. She began walking towards the barkeep when out of the corner of her eye she caught the woman suddenly spin and grab the man by the back of the neck before slamming him face first into the bar.

Not content to do it only once, the woman pulled back and smashed his face into the wooden bar counter several times before one of the other mercs wrapped her up from behind, pinning her arms to her side.

The merc pulled her to her feet. The woman responded by lifting her knees up to her chest and lashing out, the heels of her boots connecting hard with the face of the man in front of her and knocking him out. She then whipped her head back, breaking the nose of the man behind her and causing him to release his hold on her.

The woman glanced up to see the last merc stepping forward to swing a bottle at her. She ducked as he swung, avoiding the attack. Instead, the bottle shattered on the head of the merc behind her, rendering him unconscious.

She stepped forward and delivered a left hook to the chin of the merc followed by a right elbow to the face. The woman then grabbed the man by the shoulders and pulled him down while lifting her knee, connecting with his stomach to double him over. She then finished him off with a left elbow to the back of the head that dropped him.

Spinning around, she caught the merc leader getting to his feet and drawing his sword. In the blink of an eye she drew a dagger from her back and flicked it to within an inch of his neck.

"Tell me, Lucky, is this really worth dying for?" she asked in a low voice, her tone uncompromising.

'Lucky' looked anything but his namesake, appearing more like he was about to wet his pants. He gulped in visible fear before slowly returning his sword to his back and carefully walking away without another word. The woman chuckled as the man turned tail and ran out the front door of the Hanged Man.

-==0==-

Misery and Varric finally made their way to the bar to order drinks.

"You're new around here, aren't you?" the woman asked Misery as she sat back down on her stool. Misery shrugged in response.

"Welcome," the woman continued. "Oh, and keep your wits about you. You're nothing but tits and ass to the men in this place, and they won't hesitate to grab at both."

Misery's eyes flicked over the woman's appearance. She wore a white shirt cut low to show off her large breasts, with a black corset on the outside of the shirt that Misery cynically guessed served to hold in a gut while at the same time helping keep her back straight with her gravity defying chest. Eyes moving lower, the rogue noticed that her shirt barely covered her ass and she wore boots that came all the way up to mid-thigh. She shook her head slightly.

"Bottoms," Misery replied matter-of-factly.

The other woman looked at her in confusion. "Excuse me?"

"If you want men to take you seriously, wearing bottoms would be a start. Bloomers, a skirt, breeches, whatever. Going around in your underwear with your boobs practically exploding out of your top isn't exactly discouraging men from grabbing at you."

The woman started laughing. "Whoever said I wanted men to take me seriously? Besides, a few broken fingers here and there gets the message across."

Misery glanced back at the barkeep, wishing he'd hurry up with those drinks.

"I'm Isabela," the woman continued. "Formerly Captain Isabela, though sadly without my ship the title rings a bit hollow. You're Fereldan, aren't you? You have that look about you. I was in Denerim not too long ago."

_What the fuck does a Fereldan look like anyway?_ Misery asked herself. But ready to end the conversation, she merely offered a bored, "That's nice…" as the barkeep set the mugs down on the counter. She picked hers up and began to walk off towards the stairs leading up to Varric's suite.

Varric rolled his eyes at Hawke's anti-social behavior.

"You know," Isabela called out as if she didn't realize she'd been blown off, "you might be just what I'm looking for to solve a little problem I have."

Misery stopped and glanced back. "Oh, I'm sorry, I think you must have mistaken me for someone else. That girl _Charity_ you're obviously looking for? That is not me." She turned and resumed walking away.

Varric sighed. "What are your proposing, Isabela?"

Misery sighed herself at Varric's inquiry and stopped to listen.

"It isn't charity, I assure you," Isabela replied. "Someone from my past has been pestering me. I've arranged for a duel. If I win, he's dead and the problem is solved. But I don't trust him to play fair, so I need someone to watch my back."

Misery began slowly walking back towards Isabela and Varric. "And why would you just randomly pick me to do this?"

"I can't trust the riff-raff around here for simple information gathering, let alone trust them to cover me in a fight. You're different. You've got a look to you that says you can handle yourself."

"So let me get this straight. You are willing to trust your life to someone you've never met and that you know nothing about… just because of the way they look? Are you insane?"

Isabela smirked. "Perhaps… or perhaps I've just been around long enough to know how to read people. For example, did you know you were the only one in the room who didn't flinch or take a step back while I was knocking heads?"

Misery didn't react outwardly, but she was impressed that the woman had such good observational skills in the heat of conflict. "When, where, and how much?"

Varric smiled. _Now she's catching on_, he thought. Paying jobs could come in any form or fashion.

"I've arranged to meet Hayder in Hightown tomorrow after dark. He carries a couple of nice pieces and will probably have a decent amount of coin on him. You can have whatever he's got once we take him down."

"Don't you mean after you have defeated him in the duel?"

"Like I said, I don't trust him to play fair. We'll probably end up fighting him and a few lackeys."

Misery nodded. "I suppose I can manage watching your back."

Isabela chuckled before winking and suggestively replying, "I'll bet. Anyway, I'll meet you outside the Viscount's Way just after dark tomorrow."

Misery rolled her eyes at the flirtatious remark, but agreed to meet her at the designated time and place.


	5. Spirits of Justice and Misery

At the top of the stairs to the second floor of the Hanged Man, a woman tapped Misery on the shoulder and gestured for her to follow.

"Do I know you?" the rogue asked suspiciously.

"You will want to," she called back cryptically, continuing to walk down the hall without looking back. Misery glanced over at Varric.

"I've seen her around here before," the dwarf offered. "Should be harmless enough to go see what she wants."

-==0==-

Misery and Varric turned the corner at the end of the hall, moving towards the room on the right since it was the only one with an open door. Upon entering, the woman they'd briefly encountered welcomed them.

"Greetings, friend," the woman said.

"On what grounds do you consider me your friend?" Misery asked, still suspicious.

The woman smiled. "We saw what you did earlier to that group of thugs by the great stairs."

"We?"

"You may have seen our flyers around Lowtown, encouraging citizens to take back our streets from the lowlifes." She handed a pair of sovereigns to the rogue before adding, "Anyone who does such a service is a _friend_, and we thank our friends properly."

Misery's eyes opened wide at the revelation of being paid so much essentially for defending herself. "So… let me get this straight… I eliminate groups of thugs and I get paid?"

The woman smirked. "We are not in the business of hiring mercenaries. But should you have more encounters with these groups around Kirkwall, come back by at night and I will see that you are similarly _thanked _for your efforts."

Varric shook his head slightly before looking over at Misery. "This is what happens when city guardsmen are on the take," he muttered. "Citizens post bounties so someone will take care of what the guard overlooks."

Misery nodded in understanding. _I've been on the other side, paying off guards to look the other way. _Rather than voice that thought, she instead thanked the woman and left. Her eyes gleamed at the profit potential as she briefly jingled the two gold coins together before slipping them into her pouch. _Killing spree, here I come…_

-==0==-

"So, tell me, Hawke," Varric began between drinks, "what _really_ went through your head when you came face-to-face with that ogre?"

Misery snorted. The one or two drinks she'd intended on having had turned into half a dozen, and since she didn't drink with enough frequency or in enough quantity to have a very high tolerance, they were doing a remarkable job of loosening her up. "Maker, that thing's fucking huge…" She giggled slightly, causing Varric to laugh along with her. "Probably the second most scared I have ever been," she added softly.

"What was the first?"

Her eyes closed briefly. _When Father told me he was leaving the family in my care right before he died._

She shook her head. "Sorry… too personal." Her thoughts turned to her last conversation with her father, thoughts she immediately forced away. Those were for when she was alone.

Varric noticed her expression briefly turn melancholy, but there was no sign of the irritation or frustration she usually expressed when asked to talk about things she didn't want to. He couldn't help but wonder if he was actually making progress with her. He decided to push his luck a bit.

"See, now that's just not fair. You tell someone who loves stories that you've got an even scarier one than staring down an ogre, then refuse to tell it?"

Misery sighed as she stared at her half empty mug. "You are right, I should not have said anything. I've said too much tonight as it is."

Varric winced. This was _not _the response he was going for. "Hey, no… don't worry about it. It's okay if you don't want to talk about it. I'm just trying to get to know you better."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you trying to find out so much about me?"

"What can I say? I'm a friendly guy. And I don't know… it just seems… _normal _to want to know more about you when we're partners now and we're going to be spending a lot of time together?"

"Ahhh…"

"You obviously don't feel the same," Varric stated matter-of-factly.

Misery shrugged, taking another drink before explaining, "I don't bother learning more about someone or giving out more than what is necessary to complete a job."

"Why?"

"Personal information is an exploitable commodity. The more someone knows about you, the more they can hurt you with it."

Even though Varric knew she didn't mean it personally, he was still taken aback by her lack of trust. He rubbed his chin in thought. "Does that come from being burned by someone you worked with? You obviously worked with a lot of shady characters over the last year."

Sighing lightly at the dwarf's persistence, she replied, "Yes, I've been burned by someone who knew too much about me." Her voice dropping in volume to barely above a whisper, she added, "And growing up with a father and sister who were apostates conditioned me to be very careful about what I revealed. Say the wrong thing to the wrong person and we'd find ourselves moving again to avoid the templars. And before you ask, yes, it happened."

"Sounds like a rough way to grow up. You move around a lot then?"

"Up until I was eleven or twelve, yeah… a _lot_. We managed to finally find peace in Lothering, though it never felt truly comfortable. We had to be vigilant, always."

Varric frowned slightly, beginning to understand a little of what made her so closed off to others. Before he could say anything in reply, however, a voice coming from the doorway interrupted.

"There you are!" Bethany exclaimed. The worry in her tone was evident.

Misery and Varric glanced over towards the open door to his suite. The rogue's expression immediately perked up at the sight of a cleaned up Revas standing next to her sister.

"You got a bath!"

Revas whined in response, clearly unhappy with the situation.

Misery laughed. "Oh, don't be like that! Besides, you have to set a good example for Uncle." Revas whined again.

"You're welcome," Bethany stated sarcastically. "When you sent him home caked in dirt and blood it fell to me to clean him up."

"Revas or Uncle?" Misery asked, grinning wickedly.

Bethany shook her head, smirking back. "I should light your rear on fire for that remark."

"Wouldn't be the first time… anyway, why aren't you home in bed?"

"Oh? You mean you actually have _some _awareness of how late it is?" Bethany folded her arms over her chest. "Uncle said you said you'd be along shortly, and since it has been over two hours I thought I'd come see if you were okay. Sounds like you had to do some fighting tonight."

Misery sighed. She and Varric filled Bethany in on what had happened while helping Anders and then while returning to Lowtown.

"So the Sundermount trip might be good timing after all. Being out of town for a week or two is probably in our best interests if templars are going to be snooping around." the mage suggested.

"Couldn't hurt anyway," Varric offered. "We'll go see Blondie for the maps during the day and help Isabela with her thing tomorrow night, then leave for Sundermount the following morning."

"Isabela?" Bethany asked in confusion.

Misery waved her hand. "I will explain on the way home."

Nodding solemnly, Bethany said, "I got us another job for tomorrow night that we can do either before or after the other one." When the other two looked up at her curiously she continued, "I talked to that Anso guy you got the letter from Athenril about."

Misery visibly tensed at the mention of the elf, nodding sternly for Bethany to continue.

"Long story short is that Anso is a surface dwarf involved in smuggling lyrium and he needs someone to recover some goods for him from a client that didn't pay. Pretty standard fare for us. The location is a residence in the alienage."

"So in other words, the residence is just a front for whatever smuggling operations are going on there." Misery stated knowingly. "Alright, we will check it out tomorrow night as well. If I have time I might case the place a bit in the afternoon."

Varric was impressed with how quickly the rogue's mind worked even while inebriated. Rather than voice that, however, he offered a sarcastic, "Well, if we're going to get all of that done tomorrow, you two better get outta here and go get some sleep. Especially since it's already tomorrow."

Nodding in agreement, the Hawke sisters said goodnight and left.

-==0==-

By the time she, Varric, Bethany, and Revas reached Anders' clinic, Misery's irritation with the Grey Warden mage had already caught its second wind. It also hadn't helped that even after the previous day's directional fiasco, they still made a few wrong turns that resulted in it taking longer than necessary to get to the clinic. Misery stormed into the clinic, and not seeing Anders involved with a patient her eyes narrowed and she stalked up to him.

"Okay, demon boy, start talking."

Anders sighed deeply. "I suppose I deserve that…"

"And what do you think you _deserve_ for hanging us out to dry last night?"

"Please, Sister…" Bethany whispered.

"I… I am sorry… I didn't handle well seeing Karl had been made tranquil."

Misery scoffed. "Are we talking about the demon thing here, or running off and leaving us behind to deal with the mess?" That they didn't actually do anything but get out of there themselves after Anders took off was irrelevant to her. Anders didn't know that, so she used it to reinforce the idea that his taking off left them in a bad position.

Anders stiffened uncomfortably. "B-both, I s-suppose. I… look, this is hard for me to explain…" He paused for a few moments to collect his thoughts before continuing.

"When I was in Amaranthine, I met a spirit of justice who was trapped outside the Fade. We became friends. He recognized the injustices that mages in Thedas face every day."

"Bethany? Does that sound any different to you than a demon?"

The female mage stepped forward. "Yes, just as there are demons who prey on the vices of mankind, there are spirits who embody our virtues. Is that what you are talking about, Anders?"

Anders smiled appreciatively at his fellow mage. "Yes, thank you. They are the Maker's first children, and have all but given up on us."

Misery's hard glare didn't falter. "It looked to me like it was a little more than hanging out with a good friend. This 'Justice' took control of you."

"To live outside the Fade, he needed a host. I… offered to help him. We were going to work together to bring justice to every child ripped away from its mother to be sent to the Circle."

"Naturally there is a 'but' coming," Misery remarked snidely.

"Sister!" Bethany exclaimed. "Please stop sniping and let him explain." Misery glared back but didn't say anything else.

"As you've guessed, there's a 'but'… I guess I had too much anger. Once he was inside me, he… changed. When I get angry, he comes out. But he is no longer my friend Justice. He is a force of vengeance, and he has no grasp of mercy."

"I am so sorry," Bethany said softly. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

A look of pleasant surprise came over Anders' face. "I-I… you're the first I've ever told this. Thank you for not running away."

_I find that hard to believe given you just spilled it to someone you barely know_, Misery thought cynically.

"Seems like he's pretty useful in a fight if nothing else," Varric suggested with a shrug. "I knew this girl once that could turn into this beast she called the 'Slayer'. Though I guess she was different because she was supposedly the offspring of some demon and a human rather than just having a demon or spirit or whatever inside her."

Anders looked at Varric curiously for a moment before shaking his head. "Well, I can't simply bring Justice out at will like that. I mean, it's not like he is some separate being living in my head. I hear his thoughts as if they were my own, and vice versa. Even the greatest scholar cannot tell where I end and he begins."

"So he only comes out when you're angry?" Bethany asked.

"Sadly, he only comes out when I've completely lost control of myself. And I only find out afterwards what we've done." He hung his head. Bethany noticed in his eyes a weariness that went beyond the physical.

"So, about those maps," Misery interjected with more than a little tinge of impatience in her tone, abruptly changing the subject. She ignored the glare she received from her sister.

Anders bristled slightly. "I see why they call you Misery."

The rogue shrugged. "Yeah, well, you know… I met a spirit of misery trapped outside the Fade and let it merge with me."

"Wouldn't it be a demon in that case?" Varric asked sarcastically.

"Whatever, same difference."

Bethany stomped her foot, furious at her sister. She turned to face Anders, and seeing his dumbfounded, hurt expression at her sister's poking fun of his situation made her feel even worse for him. She put her hand on his shoulder. "I am so sorry she is behaving this way."

He flashed a weak smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Is this where you tell me she's not normally like this?"

Bethany averted her gaze. "Maybe not… _quite _this bad… usually." She smiled shyly.

Anders returned the smile. He was still hurting over Karl but realized he found the female mage in front of him to be rather intriguing.

Misery frowned at the look the Grey Warden was giving Bethany and that she appeared to be returning.

"So Karl was your lover, correct?" she asked, drawing glares from both of them.

"Is there a point to your question?" Anders asked.

"Just establishing for my fawning sister which way you swing." She ignored both the blush and the continued 'if looks could kill' glare from Bethany.

Anders shrugged. "I don't necessarily favor either men or women. Love is love."

"But you _do _like men?"

"I… well… I've always believed people fall in love with a whole person, not just a body. Why would you shy away from loving someone just because they're like you?"

Misery smirked. "Well, I love Bethany, but that doesn't mean I'd want to dive between her legs."

Bethany's mouth dropped open in shock. "Stop. Talking. Now. _Sister_," she practically growled.

"Hey, Hawke?" Varric began. When Misery looked over to her dwarven companion, he shook his head. With a slight smirk of his own, he winked and said, "Please don't fondle Andraste."

Misery opened her mouth to speak, but quickly closed it and began fighting to stifle the giggles that were forming. She silently nodded.

"I'm not sure I even want to know what that was about," Bethany grumbled.

Waving his hand to indicate it was nothing, Varric turned his attention back to Anders. "Blondie, I know last night didn't turn out like you hoped, but are we good on the maps?"

"Yes… my maps are yours." Glancing at Bethany and then back to Varric, he added, "As am I, if you wish me to join your expedition." He purposely avoided looking at Misery. "If you have any need for me, I will be waiting here."

Bethany nodded. "By the way, tomorrow morning we are leaving to do a couple of things outside of town up on Sundermount. With what happened last night and the possibility of templars aggressively looking for you guys, did you want to go with us?"

Misery rolled her eyes at the invitation but didn't say anything. She knew Varric wouldn't care either way and she didn't care enough not to let Bethany have this.

Anders scratched the back of his head as he thought. "Might not be a bad idea, actually. Sure, why not?"

"Then it is settled," Bethany agreed. "Meet us by the 'Gather Your Party' sign inside the Hanged Man in Lowtown tomorrow morning at 9:00 and we'll leave from there."

-==0==-

Walking away from the Grey Warden's clinic, Misery glanced over to see Bethany's gait was slowing as she stared off towards a boarded up doorway.

"Sunshine?" Varric asked before Misery spoke up.

Bethany blinked as if her mind had been elsewhere and the interruption startled her. "Oh, sorry…"

"What is wrong, Bethany?"

The mage sighed as she gestured towards the doorway. "Remember what I told you last night about the Amell estate?" When the older girl simply nodded, she continued, "I'm pretty sure this is the back way in. Mother said at the end of this passage is the cellar door she gave me her old key to."

Misery nodded, her expression turning contemplative. "Give me the key," she finally said after several moments of silence.

Bethany dug the key out of her pack and handed it to her sister. "Are you sure you want to do this now?"

"What's this about?" Varric asked.

"I need to go retrieve something from the Amell family vault for my mother. It should not take me long. You guys wait here."

Bethany's eyes opened wide. "You cannot seriously think to go in there alone! What if you run into slavers before you get to the vault?"

"Then I'll deal with them."

Revas barked his objection.

Nodding vehemently, Bethany agreed. "I am coming with you."

Misery scowled. "You are _not_. If I am not back in an hour you can come after me, but I intend to get in and out undetected."

"Stop treating me like a child! Let me help!"

"I don't know exactly what's going on here, Hawke," Varric began, "but if you're walking into a hostile situation the rest of us should go with you."

"My decision is made. One hour." With that, Misery stalked over and pried a couple of boards loose before slipping through the doorway into the passage.

-==0==-

"She is so infuriating!" Bethany hissed after her sister disappeared into the dark passageway.

Varric smiled. "Doesn't look like she's any easier on you than she is on everyone else."

"Mi- My sister just assumes I can't do anything without letting me even try!"

"The joy of being the younger sibling, Sunshine, no expectations. Bartrand does the same to me."

"Hmph! It doesn't bother you?"

Varric laughed. "Maker, no! Let him have the responsibilities of being the head of the family and going to all the Merchant's Guild meetings. I'm content to let him think he has to do everything himself."

Both fell silent for a minute before Varric decided to ask a question. "So… I've noticed something... why don't you ever use your sister's name?"

Bethany scoffed. "It's our compromise. I _refuse _to call her 'Misery', and she refuses to go by her real name anymore. She lets it slide sometimes if I use her old nickname in private, but that's about it."

"I didn't think 'Misery' was her real name. I mean, you humans can be pretty odd, but I can't see even human parents naming a kid that. What is her name anyway?"

"Sorry, Varric. I may not be very happy with her right now, but I'm not going to betray her. She will have to be the one to tell you."

"I'm not sure I'd call it _betrayal_, but okay."

Bethany shook her head. "It doesn't matter what you or I think. _She_ would see it that way. So please do not ask me personal questions about her, I'm not going to gossip."

Varric held up his hands in surrender. "Fair enough. Can you at least tell me what is going on with the estate? You mentioned slavers?"

"Yes… apparently _dear _Uncle Gamlen lost the estate to settle a gambling debt and it was taken over by slavers. I thought Mother was going to die when she found out slaving operations are being run out of the home she grew up in."

"So whatever it is your sister went after, it doesn't sound like the new owners will simply give it to her if she asks nicely, huh?"

Bethany raised an eyebrow quizzically. "Ask… _nicely_? You _have_ met my sister, haven't you?"

Laughing, Varric nodded. "Come on, Sunshine. Let's go…"

"Go where?"

"After Misery, of course. It must have been an hour by now, right?"

"Ummm… more like ten minutes, at most."

"I can never keep track of the time," Varric replied with a conspiratorial wink.

A grin formed on Bethany's face as she realized what he was doing. She nodded in agreement, motioning for Revas to come along with them as she began moving towards the passageway.


	6. To Reclaim a Birthright

From a dark corner, Misery took inventory of the large room. After using the key to gain access to the cellar, she quickly slipped into the shadows and observed quietly. Barely a minute later, a door opened and an armed man came out of a side room roughly thirty feet ahead and to her right. He seemed to just be loitering about.

A number of loud voices were coming from the room he came out of, with periodic shouts. It sounded like a group involved in a card game. Misery also took notice of two short flights of stairs leading up to another floor that were straight ahead and to her left.

She spied a glint on the wall in front of the stairs ahead, the tell-tale sign of a trap, and as her eyes scanned the area she made out a slight depression in the floor maybe ten feet in front of the first step. It was indicative of a pressure plate trigger. She smirked in amusement at how easy the trap would be to disable.

Hearing the other voices in the room the first man came out of, Misery closed her eyes and tried to separate them out into distinct individuals. She couldn't be sure, but she thought she identified five in total counting the one she could see.

Getting a sense of her surroundings, she noted that the dimly lit room was two levels high, with wooden beams running horizontally where the ceiling would normally be between the first and second levels, and additional support beams running in a crisscross pattern up to the base of the third level – which was presumably the main floor of the estate. The room layout gave her an idea.

At the sound of particularly boisterous laughter coming from inside the room, the man went back into the room. Quickly testing the stability of a lantern holder and finding it to be adequate, Misery pulled herself up and then kicked off the wall. She used the momentum to reach up to grab a support beam overhead.

_Please don't let there be any spiders_, she silently prayed.

Inhaling a deep breath, she then pushed it out slowly through her nose while pulling herself up and climbing on to the beam, biting her bottom lip the whole time to keep any utterances from the exertion in check.

"I'll get you next game!" a different man proclaimed while exiting the side room. Misery, who had started to stand up on the beam, froze in place until it became apparent the man didn't notice her.

The rogue slowly traversed the room via the wooden beam, careful not to make any noise. She maneuvered her way until she was standing above the man. Just then the first man came back out of the side room, closing the door behind him.

"I swear that blighter Henri is cheating," he grumbled to the other man.

Misery concentrated on breathing slowly and quietly, standing very still as she waited to ensure he was equally unaware of her presence.

The two men chatted casually, and she scowled as the subject turned to the slave trade. Clearly the information was good about the estate being a front for slaving operations.

Misery's anger wasn't driven by a sense of shame like her mother and sister felt from the former Amell estate being reduced to this. Unlike Bethany, who commiserated with their mother about the loss of the family estate and would openly yearn for the noble life, Misery didn't give a damn about the Amells or the estate.

As she'd told Bethany more than once, nobility was as much a lifestyle and state of mind as it was titles and material wealth. While their mother could easily slip back into that lifestyle and Bethany was enough like their mother to easily adapt, Misery would never and could never be _nobility_.

Although the rogue now lived in a world of gray and legalities were largely irrelevant to her, slavery was one of her few exceptions. She had less than no use for slavers. She had no designs on going on a suicidal one woman rampage here, but she wouldn't think twice about killing anyone that stood in the way of reaching her goal.

To Misery's chagrin, the men weren't standing close enough together that she could drop down from above and take them both out simultaneously. However, it only took her a moment to come up with an alternative.

She quietly withdrew a single arrow from her quiver. Taking another deep breath to calm her anticipation, she tossed the arrow towards the other side of the room.

The sudden noise of the arrow clattering on the stone floor created just the distraction she needed. When the men both turned towards the source of the noise, Misery drew _Song of Sorrows_ and dropped from the beam. She came down with all of her weight behind the blade, plunging it into the back of the first man's skull.

Quickly ripping it back out, she lunged forward and grabbed the second man from behind by the hair and forced his head forward while raking the razor sharp dagger across his throat. She didn't give him a chance to make a death rattle that might alert others, following up with a stab into his neck that ended his life immediately. She caught him as he fell and despite his much greater girth managed to slow his momentum enough to not hit the ground noisily.

The rogue dragged them each over to the dark corner she'd initially entered by before rifling through the men's pockets for valuables. The blood on the floor would be noticeable if anyone came by, but she hoped not having the dead bodies immediately obvious would buy her some extra time. She then retrieved her stray arrow and climbed the stairs that didn't have the trap in front of it.

_Two down… no sense messing with the others if I do not have to…_

At the top of the stairs she found a locked door that her mother's key wouldn't open. She briefly debated trying to pick the lock before deciding to try the way up the other stairs first.

Misery frowned as she looked at the trap. It would be dead simple to disable the trigger, but she knew the mechanism would make a fairly loud _clank _when she released the tension. After considering it for a moment, she opted to jump over the depression plate and bypass the trap rather than mess with disarming it.

-==0==-

Reaching the second level, Misery quietly approached the open doorway. She could see a pair of men facing each other at the far side of the room. While they were distracted by their conversation, the rogue slipped into the room and behind a stack of crates while planning her next move.

As her eyes took inventory of the room, she shifted on her feet and inadvertently bumped a crate with the bow on her back. She immediately ducked down out of sight.

"What was that?" she heard one of the men ask, their conversation stopping.

The other man laughed. "You spook too easily for this line of work. Probably just some more of those damned rats."

She could hear the sound of footsteps moving in her direction. "Maybe…" the first man replied skeptically.

She heard the other man laugh again. "You want to stay down here and kill rats, have at it. I'm going back upstairs."

Misery carefully unsheathed one of her knives. Her heartbeat started accelerating in anticipation all the while time seemed to slow. She could hear the man poking around with his sword on the other side of the crates. She liked her odds one-on-one, so even if the second man was still in the room, if she could get this first one down quickly she expected to be in good shape.

As soon as the slaver got next to her crate, Misery uncoiled. She grabbed him and in one motion planted the knife in his throat, twisting and ripping it back out while pulling the body back behind the crate. She'd been fast, but the man had still yelped in surprise before she was able to silence him. Scowling, she ducked down and relieved the body of its coin purse while keeping an acute ear open for any sign of his partner.

"You find something, Cole?" Misery could hear the mirth in the man's tone.

"Cole?" he asked again when he went unanswered, this time with a bit of concern. Misery heard his footsteps moving towards her location. She tensed once more.

Moments before she was intending to strike, she suddenly heard shouts coming from the room she'd previously been in. The approaching slaver took off running down the stairs, not noticing her or his dead companion behind the crates.

_Guess someone discovered the mess._

Misery quickly left her hiding spot and forged ahead. Ignoring a side room that had nothing but junk and a few empty bookshelves, she quietly entered another large room that appeared to be the wine storage room judging by the barrels stacked and lined up throughout. She slipped behind a barrel that was taller than she was.

_Maker's breath, the fucking wine cellar in this place is bigger than Uncle's entire house_, she thought while shaking her head.

Peeking out, she noticed a mage and four guards milling about. This was another double height room with wooden support beams running overhead. She could see the stairwell at the end of the room and based on what Bethany had told her of the place, assumed it led to the vault. But it wasn't going to be a simple in and out like she'd hoped. Glancing around, a thought came to mind.

_Only the mage can attack me at range. If I get up high I can take him out and then pick the others off before they could ever get to me._

She looked around at her options. There were large barrels stacked and lined in rows on the floor around the exterior of the room. Two-tier racks on the walls perpendicular to the two doorways held additional barrels. Misery guessed these racked wine barrels were being stored long-term for aging.

Eyeing the rack next to her, she felt like she could get up on top of the first tier from where she was without being seen, and from there could climb to the top of the second tier and move into a more aggressive position.

The nimble rogue carefully began climbing a wine rack, getting herself into a more advantageous position.

-==0==-

"Check it out, Sunshine." Varric gestured to the pair of dead bodies in the corner. "Didn't take her long, eh?"

"It never does," Bethany muttered while walking further into the room with Revas. "Looks like some blood on the floor over here too." She continued on towards the stairs.

Varric turned and started to follow. "Stop! Trap!" he nearly shouted at the mage.

"Wha-" Bethany began, only to be cutoff when Revas stepped on the pressure plate on the floor. It triggered a blast of flames from the wall, scorching the mabari.

Suddenly the door to the side room opened. "Hey! Who are you?" one of the men coming out of the room asked loudly. Spying the blood on the floor, another shouted, "Intruders!"

Varric pumped a triplet of bolts into the first guard, knocking him down. Another guard charged him, while a third one took off after the female mage.

Bethany winced at the sight of Revas rolling on the ground to extinguish the flames, howling in pain. She hurriedly cast her strongest healing spell at him. However, in doing so she left herself open to a hard slash from the longsword of her attacker. The blade caught her on the outside of her upper thigh, an area mostly not covered by the skirt portion of the chainmail smock she wore over her clothes. It tore through the cloth of the breeches she wore underneath and opened a gash.

The mage screamed from pain of the wound, falling as her leg gave out from under her. She didn't have the presence of mind to get her staff up to block the next strike either, though fortunately her chainmail held as her attacker's sword collided across her waist and upper abdomen. The slaver guard was pulling back to strike again when he was bowled over by Revas.

Varric danced around his attacker, dodging slower swings from the man's greatsword and countering with Bianca. The man wore heavier armor than the other guards, however, and while Bianca was consistently knocking him back, she was having a tough time taking him down despite the close range.

Revas was mauling the guard that had gone after Bethany, but he howled again when the guard managed to get his sword between them and raked it sideways to slash open the mabari's chest.

Bethany finally got her bearings and rolled to her knees, gasping and clutching her bloodied leg. Coughing painfully, she gritted her teeth and uttered a few words. Rather than healing herself though, she gestured and ice shot forth at the guard wrestling with Revas. The man immediately seized up, giving the wounded and very angry dog all the advantage he needed to overwhelm and finish him off.

The female mage grabbed her staff and channeled her willpower through it, tossing arcane bolts at the slaver engaged with Varric. Being attacked on two fronts and then three when Revas joined in, the man quickly went down. Bethany cast healing spells on herself and Revas and then tried to catch her breath.

Despite the healing, Revas still whimpered from the burns that were a result of tripping the trap.

"Do you have any poultices with you?" she asked Varric.

The dwarf shook his head. "Potions, but nothing for treating burns like that." He handed the mage a potion to augment her magical healing. She downed it quickly.

"This is bad," she whispered. "She will _kill _us for getting him hurt like this."

"I think you might be exaggerating a bit, Sunshine. It's-"

"Hey!" another guard shouted as he came charging down the stairs, interrupting them. Varric and Bethany both turned and fired simultaneously. The guard didn't even reach them. He was so weakened that he fell without much resistance when Revas jumped on him in the middle of the room.

"Idiot should have kept his mouth shut," Bethany sneered.

Varric laughed. "You know, I think that's the first time you've done or said anything the way your sister would. Maybe you two are related after all."

Bethany didn't answer, returning her attention to the mabari. She knelt down in front of him. "Let's get you back to Anders' clinic, I'll bet he can take care of you."

Revas barked to the negative, causing the mage to sigh.

"Are you sure?" she asked. He barked again.

Nodding in resignation, she stood back up. "Come on, we're going to keep going." At Varric's quizzical stare she explained, "Revas is imprinted on my sister. He's not going to leave when he's worried that she's in danger."

"Imprinted? What's that? And how can you even understand what that barking means?" Varric asked. He'd seen mabaris around the city, they weren't that uncommon given the influx of Fereldan refugees. But he had no actual experience being around one before the last couple of days.

"Ask me again in a more relaxed situation," she replied with a slight smirk before gesturing for the dwarf to follow.

-==0==-

Misery had managed to climb undetected to the top of the second tier of the wine rack, to a platform roughly a dozen feet off the floor. She slowly maneuvered her way along the back wall towards the other side of the room, squeezing behind and climbing over barrels as necessary.

About three-quarters of the way she froze when a man and a woman came out of another side room with bows slung across their backs. She swore silently at the change in the dynamics of the enemy group rendering her planned strategy inadequate.

Not worried about being detected in her current position up high and obscured by wine barrels, she gently took her bow off her back and kneeled down while thinking about what to do next. She noted another trap almost directly below her with a pressure plate trigger than ran almost the entire length of the floor. It would be nearly unavoidable to someone who didn't know it was there.

Misery smirked slightly. _The only question is whether the trap was installed by the slavers or by the Amells to keep undesirables from breaking into the estate by coming up through Darktown._

Her eyes scanned the room looking for the payload that would be delivered when the trigger was tripped. Not seeing anything on the far wall and knowing the wine racks on her side wouldn't have anything, nor would the owners risk damaging the expensive goods, her eyes settled on the metal floor grates on either side of the pressure plate.

_Ahhh… either flash pots or acid splash most likely. Clever…_

She closed her eyes and sighed. The thought of purposely knocking a barrel over to fall on the pressure plate and trip the trap came to mind, but the rogue quickly dismissed the idea because it wouldn't give her enough of an advantage to offset the loss of her concealment.

A sudden shout by one of the slavers caused her to blink her eyes open in surprise. Her eyes opened wide in horror at seeing Revas, Bethany, and Varric entering the large room and getting ready to initiate combat against the seven on the other side.

Misery felt tightness in her throat and stomach, both from seeing that her dog's coat appeared scorched and from knowing that while her sister and the dwarven rogue would hang back and fight from range, Revas would charge the enemies without thinking twice about it. He was already moving forward in their direction.

"Revas, stay!" she blurted out loudly and urgently from her hiding spot.

Everyone looked around in confusion, not immediately able to identify the location of the voice reverberating throughout the room. The large mabari stopped his forward momentum, dropping into a low crouch and growling.

"Get them!" the slaver mage shouted. "And find the other one!"

Misery notched a pair of arrows and eased forward on the platform she was on. She could see the enemy mage waving his staff and gathering magical energies. Eyes narrowing in focus, the rogue drew back the bowstring of her recurve and let go at the apex of the draw. The launch trajectory sent one arrow into the shoulder and one into the side of the head of the mage, the latter cutting off his life immediately. Before the arrows even hit, Misery was moving back out of sight.

"Watch your step!" Varric shouted to his companions as he fired Bianca, "Trap ahead!"

The quartet of slaver guards charged, avoiding the trap trigger as they crossed the room and closed the gap. The pair of archers stood back and fired on the trio at the front of the room.

Misery counted to ten before slowly sliding forward again. She noted with smug satisfaction that the mage was dead before turning her attention to the rest of the battle. Revas moved to intercept, leaping and knocking one guard into another and causing them both to fall. He began mauling one of the men.

Bethany was engaged in a duel with a guard wielding a greatsword. She wasn't strong enough to outright parry the attacks, but using her staff and movement she deflected away the incoming blows she couldn't outright avoid while countering where she could.

Varric was trying to hold off a larger man coming at him with sword and shield while keeping the enemy between himself and the archers so they couldn't get a clean look at him.

The second guard that Revas had knocked over was back on his feet. He lunged forward and ran a dagger through the side of the mabari that had already mortally wounded his friend. He was too slow pulling back, however, and before he knew it the dog had grabbed hold of his wrist and clamped down ferociously. The wounded beast shook his head side to side while violently yanking backward, claiming the man's hand.

Misery saw red at the sight of her dog being stabbed and rained arrow after arrow down at his attacker.

"Up there!" she heard one of the others shout. However, she didn't allow her concentration to waver until the guard that attacked Revas was dead. That's when a pair of arrows bored into her side and hip, the force of impact knocking her sideways into a barrel.

Another arrow slammed into her side and caused her to gasp further in pain as she fell backwards on her rear. She scooted awkwardly back into her hiding spot, safe for the time being. Resting her head against the back wall, she closed her eyes and grunted as she ripped the three arrows out one by one. The last one especially hurt, and she guessed she'd caused herself additional damage in the process.

Dragging herself to her feet, Misery wheezed. She realized that breathing was difficult and suspected one of the arrows punctured something inside. Slinging her bow over her shoulder, she held her side with one hand while painstakingly making her way to another spot further down, further away from her companions. Reaching another opening between barrels maybe fifteen feet from where she previously was, the rogue carefully peeked out to make sure she wasn't spotted.

The battle had progressed to where Revas and Bethany finished off her foe before a couple of arrows wounding the mabari further forced him to seek cover, since he knew he wasn't supposed to charge across the room because of a trap he couldn't see. Varric's attacker had knocked him down and Bethany was now trying to help him while avoiding the incoming projectiles.

Not being able to see Revas bothered Misery, but she knew there wasn't anything she could do until the battle was over. And the archers were the key to that happening. The rogue started to retrieve her bow from her back before thinking better of it. She noted the archers were standing close together near where a support beam passed overhead.

Gritting her teeth at the sharp pain in her side, she nevertheless discretely climbed down the rack she was on until she could make the short hop over to one of the interconnecting support beams. She bit down hard enough on her bottom lip to draw blood as she fought to stifle any utterances of her discomfort as she made her way across.

Bethany turned towards the archers after helping Varric dispatch his attacker. Intending to throw a firestorm at the archers, she instead gasped at the sight of her older sister moving nimbly across the support beams overhead. She held back her spell and simply threw arcane bolts at them while waiting to see what Misery did.

Finally reaching her spot, a small grin crept over Misery's face despite the pain she was in. The setup was perfect for what she needed. Ten feet down and five feet ahead stood the pair of archers. The man and woman were no more than a foot and a half apart as they fired on Bethany and Varric. Misery drew both of her knives, waving off her companions to stop attacking.

She already anticipated that this stunt was going to hurt her further, but it didn't matter to her. The raven haired rogue bent her knees and bounded from the wooden beam. To her audience at the other end of the room she practically glided through the air. She was silent death from above.

Misery's knives each found a home in the back of an archer's neck, assassinating both of them simultaneously. She used them to brace her own impact with the stone floor, but still cringed at the hard jostling of her insides.

Misery pulled her blades back out while lurching forward, stumbling while trying hard to get her body under control. She did not want to show she was hurt under the circumstances. Not when she had fury to burn for her companions disregarding her orders.

-==0==-

"Maker's breath, Hawke," Varric muttered with a slight tinge of awe. "That was amazing. You know, I knew this guy Ezio that used to pull tricks like that back-"

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Misery hissed, cutting him off. She glared angrily at both him and Bethany before kneeling down and disabling the trap. After finishing that and standing back up, her glare only grew harder as Revas slowly came out from behind some crates.

"And what the fuck did you let happen to Revas?" she added as she stalked over to him. She was nearly trembling in rage. Misery knelt down and whispered some words of comfort while yanking the arrow out. She fought to keep her own breathing even. Her side felt like it was on fire at this point.

Bethany's expression had fallen at the sight of the wounded mabari that still had an arrow he couldn't reach sticking in his back. She hurriedly cast multiple healing spells at him, and even though his coat was still sporting the burn marks that would need additional treatment, his internal wounds were better and he could carry on.

"He triggered a trap. I didn't see it in time to warn him," Varric explained.

Misery turned away, closing her eyes and silently scolding herself. _I should have disabled that trap! _

Varric mistook her reaction for disgust with him and huffed. "It was an accident, Hawke."

Misery started to retort, but stopped herself. At this point she just wanted to finish their business and get out of here, ditch the two of them, and find an apothecary so she could get healed up along with buying some healing potions for next time. She knew all she had to do was tell Bethany she was hurt and the mage would take care of her, but anger at the current situation, her sister, and Varric wouldn't let her. So she just started walking toward the stairs she suspected led up to the vault.

Shaking his head, the dwarf made eye contact with Bethany, who shrugged and began walking. Her sister had actually not reacted as badly as she had expected her to.

-==0==-

"The Amell crest!" Bethany exclaimed in excitement once they were inside the vault room. "Can you imagine having this over our door?"

Misery rolled her eyes. Not only did she not care about being an Amell, she also didn't share her sister's naivety that regaining the family's noble standing would be an effective shield to keep the templars away.

"We are _Hawkes_, Bethany. Do not forget that."

"Oh, come on, Sister. It's not an either/or situation. It doesn't dishonor Father's memory to embrace who we are from Mother's side of the family."

The older girl didn't answer. She knew her sister had a point, but what she wasn't going to say in front of Varric was that she didn't exactly feel like part of Mother's family given their relationship. Instead she went over to the large ornate chest in the corner and opened the lid.

In the process of cleaning the chest out of valuables, Misery came across the object that they'd come here for – their grandfather's last will and testament. The rogue unrolled the scroll and began to read.

"Wh-what is it?" Bethany asked tentatively. She could see her sister's face turn red, and the rogue was beginning to tremble again in rage.

Misery handed the scroll to Bethany. "They left _everything_ to Mother. All Uncle was supposed to get was a monthly stipend controlled by Mother. That bastard has been lying to her and us this entire time!"

"We have to confront him with this!"

"And then I am going to kill him," Misery added darkly, causing Bethany to gasp.

"Sister… _no_…" she pleaded.

"Let's go."

-==0==-

On the way out, Bethany convinced Misery to take Revas by Anders' clinic since it was so close to the Darktown passage they'd used to enter the estate cellar. While the Grey Warden healer worked on the mabari and talked to Bethany, Misery went and sat down gingerly on the ground, leaning her back and head against a wall and closing her eyes.

"You sister looks very pale, is she alright?" Anders asked.

Bethany looked over at Misery, frowning. "She doesn't look well, does she? I'd thought she was out of sorts because of something we found out about our family as well as being worried about Revas." She walked across the room and knelt down in front of the older girl.

"Hey…" she said softly, trying to keep the frustration she still felt over her sister's earlier behavior out of her tone. "Are you feeling alright?"

The rogue's eyes slowly opened, and Bethany couldn't miss the glassy quality of them. She began to get concerned. "Talk to me… Tell me what's wrong."

Misery glanced over her sister's right shoulder towards Anders working on Revas, and without moving her head her eyes flitted over to Varric standing maybe ten feet away and watching her without giving away that he was watching. Her eyes finally settled back on Bethany.

"I w-will be fine… j-just let me know when Revas is patched up and we are ready to go." She closed her eyes again.

"Why won't you tell me what is wrong?" Bethany hissed angrily. When the older girl didn't respond, she grabbed her shoulders and shook her.

Misery's eyes snapped open as she gasped from the pain. As soon as Bethany let go of her, she clutched her side and fell over, her breathing becoming louder and erratic.

The two men in the room came over quickly. Bethany was momentarily caught off guard and didn't think to cast a healing spell, but Anders gathered his willpower and began casting. Blinking in surprise, Bethany quickly followed suit, adding her healing energies to his.

The female rogue felt herself being lifted into the air and realized by the feel of the feathers adorning the upper part of his robes against her cheek that Anders had scooped her up. Her eyes fluttered half open and she smirked tiredly at him. "A mage with muscles? My hero…"

Anders shook his head. "You don't let up, do you?" He carried her over and laid her down on a table.

Misery looked up to see her sister staring at her with an expression mixed of worry, confusion, and anger. She sighed. Even though she felt much better than she did before the healing spells, she knew she wasn't getting off without an explanation.

"My side… I got hit a few times during the battle… I think… an arrow caught something inside."

"And just when, exactly, were you planning to tell us this?" Bethany asked incredulously.

"She wasn't," Varric remarked, frowning at the rogue. "Last night she tried to hide an injury with me too."

Anders turned and whispered to Bethany. "Under the circumstances, if she took piercing damage we probably should check out the wounds. But she'll have to take off her armor."

Bethany nodded in agreement. "Sister. Armor off, now."

"Beth-"

"Now!" the younger sister shouted.

The look in the mage's eyes made it clear she was going to out stubborn Misery on this one. Misery sighed bitterly before nodding curtly and beginning to unbuckle her cuirass. She removed it and tossed it aside, then took off her undershirt and sent it chasing the cuirass. Sitting back down on the table clothed in just her bra from the waist up, she glared in silence.

"Maker's breath, Hawke, you look like you were used as a pin cushion!" Varric noted. "How many times did you say you got hit?"

"A few… I was not counting though, so who knows."

Bethany's eyes took inventory of the red and purplish-black marks indicative of arrow wounds that hadn't completely faded from the healing. "Six!" she exclaimed, her anger catching its third or fourth wind.

"They weren't all from that last battle…" Misery started before trailing off.

After inspecting the wounds, Anders quietly retrieved a couple of healing poultices and applied them to her skin, casting another healing spell over the top of them. "Next time just let me know. Despite what you think of Justice and me, I do want to help."

"For that matter, this shit stops right here, Hawke," Varric began. "No more hiding injuries from us."

"Are we clear?" Bethany added.

"Fine…" Misery grumbled reluctantly.

"Why are you being so pissy about this?" Bethany asked in annoyance. "We are trying to help!"

Misery's own anger kicked back in. Her eyes danced back and forth between Bethany, Varric, and Revas. "I would not have even been hurt if you would have done what you were told! _You _are the ones that flushed me out! I had to reveal myself to stop _you_ from tripping another trap! I got shot while keeping attackers off of _you_! If anyone has a right to be pissed off here, it is _me_!"

She hopped off the table and began dressing. "If we are done here, it's time for me to go. I have to squeeze in killing someone before my next scheduled appointment."

_Not if I have anything to say about it_, Bethany thought. She decided to save actually voicing her opinion on the matter, however, until the two of them were alone. Instead she turned to the Grey Warden.

"Thank you, Anders, for all of your help. My sister thanks you as well, especially considering how rude she was to you earlier. Don't you, Sister?"

Misery mumbled something that sounded somewhat like 'Thanks' in a rather contrite, embarrassed tone.

Revas trotted over and licked Anders' hand, causing the warden to chuckle and genuinely smile.

"Of course, it was no problem. And Misery?" When she made eye contact, he continued, "I meant what I said about wanting to help."

A thin smile crept across the rogue's lips. She nodded her thanks. "See you tomorrow."

.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I realized about 34 of the way through writing the Birthright sidequest here that it had an 'Assassin's Creed' feel to it, so I threw in the Ezio reference to top it off. Kudos to anyone who figured it out, as well as to those who got the Baldur's Gate II reference in the last chapter. Yeah, Varric knows *everyone* and I'll probably have abused that theme before it's all said and done :-)**

**Thank you again to everyone who is following this story. I know as much as anyone how precious free time is, so I'm always appreciative when people choose to spend theirs on my stuff. I reply to every signed review in PM, but since I've gotten a couple unsigned ones I'll just say thanks to those people here. So, thanks!**


	7. Family Trouble

As Misery reached to open the door to Uncle Gamlen's house, Bethany grabbed her wrist to stop her. "Please do not act rashly," she pleaded.

Just then they heard their mother shouting at Uncle Gamlen. "You sold my children into servitude! Now you expect me to pay rent?" she asked incredulously.

Misery's lips pursed. "No promises." She opened the door and stalked inside.

-==0==-

"Well, maybe… just… put something towards food?" Gamlen asked, appearing rather nervous by the appearance of Leandra's daughters and the dog while he was trying to get money out of her.

"Mother will pay rent after you've paid back every last sovereign, piece, and bit you stole from her!" Misery sneered.

"Mireille!" Leandra exclaimed. "What is this about?"

Glaring at the older man, Misery snidely asked, "You want to come clean on your own?"

"I-I d-don't know what you're talking about!"

Not taking her eyes off of him, Misery answered her mother. "We retrieved the will. Uncle Gamlen has been lying to you the entire time. Grandfather left you _everything_."

Gamlen immediately broke eye contact and began fidgeting. The things he'd left behind were done foolishly thinking a couple of his investments would come through and he'd be able to get the estate back. And when he'd originally told Leandra that the will was in the family vault, he thought the vault might as well be on the moon for as accessible it was given the current owner of the estate. Yet another mistake…

The few times he'd run into Athenril since making the deal with her to let Leandra's girls work the coin off for a year in exchange for bankrolling their way into the city and covering a couple of his debts that were being a bit more aggressively pursued (he was thankful they still didn't know about the latter), the elf had spoken very highly of the girls. Once she'd even sarcastically suggested that she'd have paid twice as much if she'd known she was getting that high of quality.

The price of that knowledge was ongoing regret and fear over not having burned the will when he had the chance, understanding that especially the girl calling herself 'Misery' (and acting every bit the part) had the wherewithal to retrieve that incriminating document if she put her mind to it. But by then it was far too late for him to do anything about it, and he'd dug himself such a deep hole with the lies he'd told Leandra early on that all he could do was stay the course and hope this day would never come. But here it was.

Bethany held out the scroll. "They forgave you, Mother. Here, read it."

Leandra took the will and unrolled it. "To my daughter, Leandra, and all children born of her… the estate in Hightown and all associated revenues." She fell silent momentarily before looking up at Gamlen with an expression mixed of hurt and confusion.

"I'd ask 'why', but it doesn't take knowing you more than five minutes for that answer to be obvious," Misery sneered.

Gamlen scowled right back before glaring at Leandra. He knew he didn't have a leg to stand on for lying to her, but he damned well wasn't going to apologize for it. "You're the one that ran away, Leandra! Whatever happened to 'love is so much more important than money'?"

"It is!" she exclaimed.

"What kind of excuse is that?" Misery asked. "It was okay to steal her inheritance because it wasn't as important to her as other things were? As important as it was to _you_?"

"You never even came home for the funeral!" he shot back at Leandra, ignoring her oldest child's remarks.

"That changes _nothing_," Misery countered in her mother's defense.

Leandra shook her head. "The twins were only a week old! I could hardly travel then!"

Gamlen scoffed. "Well, we all have our burdens, don't we? Mine was looking after a life that _you _abandoned. _You_ weren't here to settle their affairs after they died. _You_ weren't here to pay the bills, to pay for the upkeep of the estate. How long was I supposed to wait for you to fulfill _your _responsibilities?"

"Oh?" Misery asked snidely. "Pissing away the family fortune on whores, booze, and gambling was simply you taking care of Mother's responsibilities?"

Leandra took in a sharp breath. "Mireille, is that really true?" Misery nodded curtly in response, causing Gamlen to scowl further when Leandra turned her disapproving glare on him.

"Did you even wait at all?" Bethany chimed in. "Or even write to tell Mother what needed done? You owe her!"

"Andraste's ass, I do! _I'm _the one that had to take care of them as they were bedridden and dying! And after all that time, do you know what Father's last word was? _Leandra…_" He practically spat his sister's name in jealousy. "_I _deserved the inheritance. I _earned _it! To the Void with all of you!"

Having left _Song of Sorrows _with Varric, who was having it enchanted with the lightning rune while he was up in Hightown, Misery drew _Cruel_ and began walking slowly towards Gamlen. Her expression revealed no emotion. The older man quickly backpedaled until he hit the wall behind him.

"Mireille!" Leandra screamed. Misery kept moving forward, stalking her prey.

Bethany darted over and stood in front of Gamlen, folding her arms across her chest as she stared back defiantly at her sister. "No."

Misery paused. Her eyes narrowed. "Get out of my way," she said coolly. Without breaking eye contact with Bethany she noted Gamlen cowered down behind the mage.

Bethany held her ground, the simple act of not budging from her spot serving as her response to her sister's command. She was confident Misery wouldn't risk hurting her to get to their uncle. Her confidence that her sister wouldn't attempt to otherwise get past her, however, wavered and she gulped slightly when Misery took another menacing step forward. The rogue's determination was not faltering.

"P-put the dagger away!" Leandra exclaimed. "Maker's breath! Killing him isn't what I want!"

Misery finally stopped, but maintained her staredown with Bethany.

Once she realized her oldest wasn't going to attack Gamlen against her wishes, Leandra composed herself and turned to her brother.

"Gamlen, it's enough for me to know that Mother and Father didn't die hating me. But since you sold the estate when you were not even the legal owner of it, I will go petition the Viscount to reclaim my rights. Maker willing, we'll have the estate back within a few weeks."

Gamlen opened his mouth to speak, to tell her their family name didn't carry enough weight anymore for her to even get an audience with the Viscount, but seeing Misery's icy glare once Bethany stepped away stopped him before he ever got started. His eyes fell to the floor in front of him, his shoulders slumped forward in defeat.

In a cold, even tone, Misery stated, "Consider yourself lucky that your sister loves you much more than you deserve. And remember this, _Uncle, _it's not her fault your father was an ungrateful asshole." She then spun on her heels and left the house, ignoring the wide-eyed shock on her uncle's face and the gasps of disbelief from her mother and sister.

-==0==-

Misery wandered the Lowtown Bazaar, absentmindedly glancing over the selection of goods at the different merchant booths. The rogue wasn't shopping as much as killing time. She didn't want to be at the house right now, and she really didn't want any company.

While one always had to maintain enough awareness to guard against cutpurses, it was easy to lose oneself within the bustle of the Bazaar, an expanse of Lowtown where dozens of merchants sold all manner of wares. Some had permanent shops, while others rented stalls on a daily or weekly basis. Misery doubted she'd have to worry about her sister finding her here and confronting her about what she'd intended to do.

The Bazaar wasn't as much of a distraction to her thoughts as she'd hoped, however, as she found herself repeatedly dwelling on her family.

Malcolm Hawke never played favorites when it came to his children. As a child, Mireille enjoyed certain privileges her brother and sister didn't have, and she got to do things such as accompany her father on supply or scouting journeys to other towns much more often than Carver or Bethany. However, she also had a corresponding increase in responsibilities and expectations as compared to the twins. If anything, Malcolm went out of his way to show his children that they were equals in his eyes even while fostering their individual talents.

A feeling of guilt washed over her at the thought of her father. Her father had been her best friend, her mentor, and she idolized nearly everything about him. And she knew he'd hate what she was turning into. She knew that beyond any shadow of a doubt. She briefly wondered if she'd end up a bitter shell like Uncle Gamlen, pissed off at the world and caring for nothing more than what she could personally get out of it.

As much as Misery loathed admitting it, after having had just a little time to think, she realized she could empathize with Uncle Gamlen to a degree. Apparently being on the receiving end of open favoritism and a disproportionate amount of parental affection hadn't taught her mother anything about not doing it to her own children.

Leandra had never made her oldest feel unloved, at least not before Carver died, but she'd always favored the twins. In hindsight, Misery wondered if her father taking her with him so many places was his way of making that up to her.

She knew the big difference between herself and Uncle Gamlen was that she'd never have even considered screwing over Carver or Bethany the way Gamlen did Leandra. But under the circumstances - having all of that pent-up anger towards his parents for their glaring lack of appreciation of him, for their obsession with Leandra years after she'd embarrassed the family by running off with Hawke and never coming back, for the betrayal over having effectively been left nothing of value after dutifully taking care of his parents for so long, and for having the financial realities Leandra wasn't around to deal with – she understood.

Misery realized now she couldn't condemn him for it. For lying to and making her mother feel like her parents died hating her, sure. But not for taking her inheritance, especially considering that if not for the Blight, Leandra likely never would have set foot in Kirkwall again. As it was, when she did finally come back it had been nearly twenty-five years since she'd left and more than eighteen since their parents had died.

Knowing she'd get chewed out later for having called her dead grandfather an 'ungrateful asshole', she sighed in frustration. Misery didn't know what to do to fix the relationship with her mother, though she suspected it started with the oldest child actually fulfilling her duty to provide a comfortable home in her father's stead. And her best chance to do that was the expedition.

_I will need to bust my ass to raise coin once we're back from Sundermount._

She was still thinking things over and wandering aimlessly when a female voice called out and jarred her from her reverie.

"Misery Hawke!"

The rogue, startled at first, got her wits about her and focused on the source. She smirked slightly.

"Hello, Elegant. Been a long time."

The woman with long, flowing golden hair and wearing an ankle length form fitting dress grinned. "It's _Lady _Elegant now, I'll have you know. I'm a married woman."

Misery snorted. "Married or not, you'll never be a _lady_."

Elegant smirked back. "And you're one to talk?"

"I never said I was. But you do not hear me claiming to be one either. Anyway, when did you set up shop here in the Bazaar? Athenril not keeping you busy enough?"

Elegant waved her hand. "I am in business for myself now. But I will still sell my wares to you, despite my feelings about your employer."

"Hah! I do not work for that bitch anymore either."

"Really?" the fair-haired woman asked in surprise. "I thought you two were close?"

"Well, we're not."

Sensing from the rogue's body language that she didn't want to get into it, Elegant simply nodded in acknowledgement. "Anyway, you know my talents as an herbalist. I carry a variety of potions, salves, and medicated poultices for healing and better health."

Perusing the different healing and recovery items, Misery raised an eyebrow curiously. "I am not complaining, but it looks like your prices have come down since I last bought anything from you. Your sundries shop was one of the more pricey places around."

Elegant huffed. "I can afford not to markup my wares so much when I don't have to fork over half of my sales to a certain elf."

Nodding in understanding, Misery purchased half a dozen elfroot potions and a few injury kits with some of her proceeds from the previous night's work. From past experience she knew Elegant's elfroot potions were more potent than the typical health potions commonly available.

"Well, Misery, you know where to find me now when those run out. Take care of yourself."

-==0==-

A couple of booths later, Misery became aware that she'd acquired a tail. Despite maintaining a discreet distance from her, a figure in a hooded cloak seemed to stop whenever she stopped, and move whenever she moved. The rogue tested the theory by doubling back, passing by her pursuer, who made a point of not looking in her direction.

When she neared a weapons merchant she'd previously been to, she stopped suddenly and while turning towards the booth caught a glimpse out of the corner of her eye of the hooded figure abruptly stopping as well and beginning to make a show of browsing another booth.

Misery smirked. "Got you…" she whispered to herself before casually strolling away as if she had no idea she was being followed.

The cat and mouse game continued as Misery left the Bazaar. She fell in step with a small crowd of people, using the bodies to obscure the sightlines of her follower. Taking advantage of another group of people crossing paths at an intersection, Misery ducked her head and darted left down an alley. She sprinted the short distance to another intersecting alley and took another left. Spying a roof access ladder, the rogue hurriedly climbed and raced across the rooftops back towards the main street she'd previously been followed down.

Misery resisted the urge to laugh out loud. She'd effectively backtracked to the intersection where she'd shaken her pursuer, who she could now see coming back out of the alley that she'd first taken off down. The hooded figure came to a stop and Misery could briefly see the look of bewilderment on their face as they looked in all directions. She knew if she wanted to, from this vantage point up on the roof she could easily put an arrow between her pursuer's shoulder blades right here on a crowded street and escape without being seen. But no, she'd already determined that this one needed a more _personal_ touch.

-==0==-

With a huff in frustration, the hooded figure stopped again and looked around.

_Where could she have disappeared to?_

The hooded figure took a couple of steps and gave a long look down another alley. Her quarry was still nowhere to be seen. She started to turn back the other direction when suddenly she felt the light touch of a hand on her throat.

"You are dead," Misery whispered into the ear of her pursuer in a tone laced in mirth.

"How long ago did you discover me?"

"Oh, all the way back at the Bazaar. I could have killed you half a dozen times already without you seeing it coming."

Sighing, Bethany pulled down her hood and turned around. "You always were a better tracker than me."

Misery shook her head. "You're good enough. You just needed to not let yourself get frustrated once you lost me. It caused you to lose focus, and that's what gets you killed."

"I'm fairly sure you went down that alley a ways back. Where did you hide? I didn't see any good cover."

"Rooftops. I doubled back on the roof and started tracking you. I saw you looking around, that's actually when I realized it was you that had been following me. Nice cloak, by the way, when did you get that?"

"Looted it from the estate earlier," the mage began. "I thought it would give me a better advantage if you couldn't just look over and recognize me. I picked up your trail as you were going into the Bazaar."

"See, I told you you're good enough. I did not notice until after I finished talking to Elegant."

Bethany scoffed. "You were completely distracted. I doubt you'd have noticed a Qunari tracking you."

Misery's expression turned contemplative as she started walking. Bethany fell in stride alongside her. After a couple of minutes with neither of them speaking, Bethany finally asked, "Are you okay?"

"I am always okay, you should know that."

"I don't think you believe that either."

Misery sighed. "What do you want me to say? That I took off precisely because I didn't want to have this conversation?"

Bethany stopped and turned to face her sister. Smiling, she answered, "I told Mother how it was you that insisted on going after grandfather's will today, and that we were only successful in retrieving it because you were there. She is very grateful."

The mage resumed walking, forcing a stunned Misery to be the one to catch up and fall in stride alongside her sister.

"Really?" the rogue asked in mild disbelief.

Bethany giggled lightly. "Yes. Of course, I left out a few details in the retelling. My torn breeches and the blood stains on the three of us made it obvious there was some fighting involved, but she doesn't have a complete idea of how dangerous it was."

In a more somber tone she added, "And I didn't tell her how you were content to let yourself suffer and possibly die in the presence of two mages with healing spells and a dwarf carrying healing potions rather than admit you needed help."

Misery didn't say anything in reply.

"Do I need to play the 'you can't keep your promise to Father if you're dead' card?"

Misery sighed. "No… you and Revas… and Varric… made your point earlier."

"You know it's because we love you, right? Errr… at least Revas and I do anyway. I can't speak for Varric." She giggled, causing Misery to shake her head and chuckle lightly.

"I am sure he already regrets picking me to partner with. I expect he'll flee as fast as those little legs can carry him once the expedition is done."

Bethany giggled again at the mental image before composing herself. "Seriously though, you do understand that I don't want to lose you no matter what, right?"

Misery smirked. "I don't know, I wasn't feeling the love back at Anders' clinic. You looked like you were ready to kill me yourself."

"I still can't believe you laid into him as hard as you did. The poor guy looked like he was about to cry."

"Oh? So that's what you were upset about? And here I thought it was because I said I didn't want to dive between your legs," Misery offered sarcastically.

"Hardly… even though I'd bet Uncle would pay whatever coin he has left to watch that," Bethany countered with an equal amount of sarcasm.

Misery shuddered at the thought, the reaction provoking laughter from both girls. After a minute of silence went by, the rogue stopped and pulled her equipment pack from her back. Retrieving what she was looking for, she handed Bethany a medium sized picture frame.

"I took this from the vault," the rogue began. "I'd planned on giving it to you back at the house, but… anyway… I wanted you to have it."

Bethany's eyes lit up in glee. "This… this must be Mother's betrothal portrait!" She pointed out the ring on their mother's finger as indication of that. Her eyes greedily soaked in all of the details. "She was so beautiful… She looks so happy," Bethany cooed.

Misery nodded. "It has been a long time since I've seen her smile like that."

"You know, I guess I always thought she ran away with Father in part to avoid having to marry the Comte de Launcet. I wonder… now I wonder if she was actually happy to be marrying him but just wanted to be with Father even more."

"Father was always so proud of her. One time I heard him tell someone that it was like he was living a fairy tale, the lowborn scoundrel who won the heart of the beautiful princess and lived happily ever after."

Bethany raised an eyebrow curiously. "He told someone she was a princess?"

"No, no, he was just comparing his life to a story. He certainly treated her like a princess though, even if back then she did not act the part."

Misery paused for a moment before continuing, "I suppose that's a lot of what irritates me about her now. Since we've been in Kirkwall it's as if she has forgotten how to be Leandra Hawke, a woman who was not afraid to roll up her sleeves and work hard, to do whatever was necessary. If the Leandra Amell she is trying so hard to be again is how she was when Father first met her, I wonder what he saw in her. He could not have known she'd be able to handle the life he was able to provide."

"They were young and idealistic," Bethany suggested. "I don't think either of them thought it was going to be as hard as it was. Mother told me she thought when they got to Ferelden they'd find a quiet, out of the way village to settle in and raise a family and that would be that… happily ever after."

"Except the _settling _part did not happen for a dozen years or more, not until Lothering."

_In no small part due to me_, Bethany thought with a twinge of guilt. She knew better than to voice that thought, however, as her sister was liable to pound her both for implying Misery's comment was in reference to her and for feeling guilty in the first place. But it didn't change the fact that Bethany did feel guilty.

It had been hard enough for Malcolm Hawke to hide his own magic abilities. Bethany inheriting that ability compounded the problem greatly. Especially trying to protect a child that had neither the years of training nor the maturity to protect herself.

With the benefit of hindsight, Bethany understood that several times the family moved as a direct result of her, that Mireille and Carver had sacrificed any semblance of normal childhoods in large part to protect her, and that in general her existence made life more difficult for the family.

At times she'd felt singled out, that everything the family did was centered on protecting her. Even though she knew none of them had truly resented her for it, that any anger or frustration directed at her for being a mage had been circumstantial at the time and temporary, she still felt guilty.

"I… I suppose Mother's life would have been much easier as Leandra de Launcet," Bethany said softly. Staring at the picture, she added, "And she'd have aged more gracefully."

The mage didn't mean that as a dig at their mother, it was just the reality that Mother's current appearance bared the hallmarks of many years of stress, worry, and hard work - things that would have been largely absent from her life had she followed her parent's plan and married de Launcet.

Misery gave a gentle nod. "In Mother's defense, I will say that as hard as it was when we were growing up… the lack of stability from having to move around and the lack of steady income at times and all, I never heard her complain. She was as devoted to Father as a wife could be."

Bethany looked up at her sister in surprise, causing the older girl to smirk. "I know I do not have much good to say about Mother anymore, but sometimes I remember she wasn't always like she is now."

"Thank you for this, Miri," Bethany whispered, her eyes glistening.

"Yeah… well… just because-"

Bethany held up her hand to interrupt her sister. Still whispering, she said, "Please don't lecture me about your name. I didn't say it loudly enough for anyone else but you to hear."

Misery sighed, but simply closed her eyes briefly and nodded in reply before resuming walking.

By this time they'd nearly reached home. Misery stopped before ascending the steps to Uncle Gamlen's hovel. She looked up at the sky.

"What is it?" Bethany asked.

"I… I don't want to go in there right now. But it's probably too late in the afternoon to go scope out the job in the alienage. By the time we finished we'd just have to come back to get Varric and then turn around and go right back. "

Bethany nodded. "How about I go inside real quick to drop off the portrait and pick up Revas, then buy you an early dinner over at the Hanged Man? Neither of us have eaten since breakfast, and we can relax for awhile until it's time to go."

"As long as it isn't the stew," Misery began with a grin. "My stomach does not do well with 'mystery meat of the day'."

Laughing, Bethany nodded again before bounding up the steps.


	8. A Broody Elf, a Skanky Pirate, and the…

"Sunshine, are you sure this was the right place?" Varric asked.

"Quite sure. This was the address Anso gave me."

Warning bells were tolling in Misery's head, more so because the job had originated from Athenril. She couldn't help but question if she'd been set up. If so, the elf hadn't sent nearly enough muscle. The four of them had made quick work of the five men who'd been inside the residence.

"If nothing else, there were humans here that attacked us on sight and not elves," Misery noted. Gesturing around towards the bodies she added, "I think it's safe to say these guys did not live here."

Bethany nodded. "Still, no sign of any lyrium or for that matter any other goods being smuggled. And they acted like they were defending this empty chest, which is odd."

"Could be that the smugglers already shipped the stuff out," Varric speculated.

While Misery merely shrugged, Bethany frowned in thought before answering, "Well, all we can do is go back to Anso and tell him the goods weren't here."

"And he'd better not even think about stiffing us on payment," Misery added. Varric smiled at the female rogue while nodding in agreement.

-==0==-

Misery's eyes narrowed as they went back outside and found six armed soldiers or mercenaries wearing armor that was distinctly foreign to Kirkwall. She assumed because of that they weren't with the dead group inside, but the soldiers nevertheless were positioned to intercept anyone coming out of the residence she'd just been inside.

The soldiers were lined up three swordsmen in front, and a man that was presumably the leader was standing in the back middle with a greatsword strapped to his back. He was flanked by a pair of archers.

"That ain't the elf!" a woman up front exclaimed.

_Elf? _Misery asked herself. Clearly they were expecting someone else. A smirk crept across her lips as she replied, "Obviously the brains in this outfit. You guys should listen to her, she's a smart one."

The man next to the left of the first woman sneered, "No matter! We were told to kill anyone who came out of the house!"

Bethany raised her hand. "If you're here about Anso's unpaid for goods as well, you're just as late as we were. Everything is already gone."

Misery rolled her eyes. _These guys are not here on Anso's behalf. _ "Look, I do not know what is going on here, but we are clearly not who you're after. And I can tell you there is no elf inside that residence. Just some humans." She didn't bother mentioning the little detail that the ones inside were now all dead.

The man appearing to be the leader of this group stepped forward. "If you are truly just in the wrong place at the wrong time, then you have my apologies. But unfortunately our orders are clear, and I won't sign my own death warrant by defying Lord Danarius."

"You'll just sign it by messing with Hawke," Varric noted with a chuckle. "_Smart_…"

"Varric?" Misery began while casually moving closer to the enemy line without drawing her weapons, "Do remember what I said before about archers, will you?"

In the time it took the man directly across from her to wind up for a swing of his sword, Misery snatched the knife from above her left hip and plunged it into his throat. She kicked him out of the way before drawing her daggers on the run, going after the leader next.

Bethany grabbed her staff and parried an incoming chop from the woman attacking her. Holding her staff horizontally out in front of her in both hands, the mage countered with a hard slash at the knee of her foe. The soldier got her shield down low to block, but wasn't quick enough raising it up when Bethany brought the other end of her staff forward. The blow was only partially deflected off the top of her shield and caught her in the chin, staggering her briefly.

Varric peppered the pair of archers, alternating between them in an effort to keep them on the defensive. They'd immediately taken to retreating further back and using the massive Vhenadahl tree in the center of the alienage for cover.

The dwarf growled as an incoming arrow nearly missed the younger Hawke. He did _not _want to be on the receiving end of Misery's ire should he fail to deal with the archers again. He took off running, intent on flanking them.

Revas had his foe completely on the defensive. The man clearly had no experience fighting against mabari, but was skilled enough to keep his center of balance and his shield in position to hold off the dog's powerful attacks while trying to figure out how to initiate his own offense.

What he wasn't prepared for was a dagger finding its way into his lower back. While engaged in her own deadly dance with the leader, Misery had found herself directly behind Revas' opponent and took the opportunity for the quick backstab. His arms dropped in response to an agonizing back spasm. Revas seized the opening and was at the man's throat after bowling him over.

An arrow drilled into Varric's calf as he ran, knocking his leg out from under him and sending him sprawling into a rolling, dusty mess that caused him to lose Bianca from his grasp in the process. He tried to roll out of the way of the next attack, but screamed when he rolled over the shaft of the arrow and shredded more flesh from the sideways pull. He barely had time to notice that the move had torn the arrow completely out before another arrow was embedded in the top of his shoulder.

"Hawke!" he screeched. Any of them would do at this point.

"Revas! To Varric!" Misery shouted after sidestepping a heavy overhand chop from the leader's greatsword. She stepped on the blade to pin it to the ground while bringing _Song of Sorrows _in her left hand to bear. The man let go of his sword and brought up his arms, allowing his silverite gauntlets to absorb the blow.

The leader snarled and took a swing. His heavy glove encased fist connected solidly with the surprised rogue's chin and dropped her. He pulled a hunting knife from a boot sheath and was stepping forward to slit the throat of the now unconscious woman in front of him when he suddenly doubled over, grabbed his head, and began screaming in horror from a mental attack inflicted on him by Bethany, who was still trying to put away her original foe in hand-to-hand melee.

Deciding that ending her current fight quickly in order to get to her sister was the highest priority, Bethany more visibly revealed herself as a mage by sending a blast of ice bursting forth from her hand that caused the woman to convulse involuntarily from the intense cold. The mage finished her off with a blow to the back of the neck from her staff.

Revas quickly overwhelmed one archer while Varric painstakingly crawled over to Bianca. Seeing the mabari wrestling with the other archer, he turned his attention back towards the others. There he saw the leader of this group of soldiers was the only other enemy remaining. The man had his back turned to the dwarf and was moving towards the younger Hawke with a knife in his hand.

Scooting around on his stomach, Varric stared down Bianca's iron sights and pulled the trigger.

To Varric's horror, the man unknowingly ducked down to pick up his previously dropped greatsword at the precise moment Varric fired. The bolt sailed over his head and slammed into the upper chest of the mage, just above where the chainmail of her smock started.

"Sunshine!" he yelped at the sight of her being knocked back and falling to one knee. Gritting his teeth in frustration at himself, Varric refocused and pumped a triplet of bolts into the man's back. They didn't gain much penetration into his heavy armor, but they got his attention and he spun around to face the source.

"Goodbye…" Varric whispered and pulled the trigger again. Now facing him, the leader's open faced helm offered zero protection against the pair of incoming bolts. One tore through his left cheek and came to a rest in his throat. The other claimed his left eye and didn't stop until it was in his brain. He was dead before he hit the ground.

Varric saw Bethany stand back up and help Revas finish off their last opponent. He laid his face down in the dirt, partly from his own pain and partly from how awful he felt at hitting the girl. He knew he was going to get more than an earful over it, deservedly so.

"Varric!" Bethany called out as she knelt down by her sister. "How badly are you hurt? My sister is out cold."

"I'll live, Sunshine. Take care of her first and get to me when you can."

He wanted no part of removing the arrow stuck in the top of his shoulder himself, grimacing at the reminder of the pain he'd felt when the one in his calf came free. Of course, he had a large open wound to show for it and couldn't walk at the moment. With his good arm he rummaged in his pack for a healing potion.

_Note to self: next time bring injury kits._

-==0==-

A healing spell, several licks from a wet mabari tongue, and a couple of minutes later, Bethany and Revas managed to coax her sister fully awake.

"Hey…" Bethany said with a gentle smile.

Misery groaned. "Did anyone get the number of that carriage that ran me over?"

"No, but I at least kept it from going any further than that. Don't get up yet. I need to check on Varric, I'll be right back."

As Bethany approached the rather embarrassed looking dwarf, she smirked. "Please tell Bianca that I'm no threat to steal her man. She doesn't need to shoot me to protect her turf."

"Awww… Sunshine… I'm so sorry. That guy ducked right as I shot. I feel awful about it."

The mage waved her hand to indicate it was no concern to her. "No _permanent _harm done." She put one hand on his shoulder, feeling him tensing up in anticipation.

"So how did Bianca get her name, anyway?" she asked, trying to distract him.

Varric chuckled. He'd been asked that question many times, but he rather liked the bit of mystery he'd created around it. "Sorry, Sunshine. That's the one story I've sworn never to- ARGHHH!"

He glared up at the girl even as a healing spell was beginning to wash over him. "That was mean."

Bethany shrugged playfully. "It got you to stop anticipating the pain of having the arrow removed, didn't it?"

"It was still mean." He mock pouted.

"Oh? I had to remove the one _you _shot me with on my own."

"Good point, you win." He held out his hand, which Bethany grabbed and used to pull him to his feet. He winced as he took a step, a painful reminder of the mess the other arrow had made of his calf.

Returning to her sister, Bethany held out her hand to help the older girl up. "Slowly now, it might take a minute or two to get your balance. Start with just sitting up first."

The rogue used Bethany's help to get to a sitting position before closing her eyes and resting her forehead on her knees to wait out the feeling of the world spinning around her. "Can I get another healing spell… please?"

The mage complied instantly, and as Misery felt better she let Bethany help her to her feet.

"I guess I got my bell rung pretty good. How'd you come out of it?"

Bethany shrugged. "Got beaten up a bit by the girl I started off fighting. You know, the one you called the 'brains of the outfit'."

"Yep, she was all over it that we were not elves. Must have been the ears that gave us away."

"Yeah, well… I thought I'd fare better without using magic against her than I did, to be honest. Guess I still have a lot to learn."

The younger girl wasn't going to bring up taking a bolt from Varric since she knew both that it had been accidental and that her sister would likely be furious to know she got hit with friendly fire.

As Misery nodded in acknowledgement, Varric bowed his head and turned away. He hadn't been bullshitting Hawke when he'd told her he sometimes had to shoot people, but he was quickly realizing that the skirmishes she got into were much more intense than what he was used to.

He was disappointed in himself, but it was for more than shooting the younger Hawke. He felt like he'd been a liability in this fight, and didn't feel like he had contributed to the degree he needed to in battles in general so far.

"Huh?" Varric asked, realizing he'd gotten lost in thought and that his name was being called.

Misery held out an injury kit. "For your leg."

Varric nodded absentmindedly, thanking the rogue as he sat down and went to work.

-==0==-

Misery began to stroll around the small area surrounding the Vhenadahl tree with Revas while she waited on Varric. She wasn't terribly surprised not to see any elves out and about this early evening. The fighting had probably chased them into their homes. Still, it was somewhat unsettling that such a densely populated area was seemingly so empty. Suddenly a voice broke the silence.

"I don't know who you are, but you made a serious mistake coming here!" a man sneered at her. From his appearance it was easy enough to guess he was with the ones they'd just fought. He continued, "Lieutenant! Send everyone into the clearing, now!"

_Fuck… not more of them_, Misery groaned inwardly.

When no one responded, the man turned to look behind him. That's when he noticed a severely wounded soldier staggering towards him.

"C-c-captain…" the soldier grunted before collapsing.

Varric was trying to hurry up with the injury kit. That damned tree was blocking his view of what was going on, and Sunshine had moved away to back her sister up if necessary.

Misery saw over the captain's shoulder a strange looking elf approaching. The man was tall by elven standards and had unnaturally white hair, but most striking were the white tattoos outlined in black adorning his arms and neck. She guessed by the patterns that they extended down his torso as well.

"Your men are dead," the elf sneered as he approached and walked past the captain to stand in front of Misery, who folded her arms over her chest. "And your plan has failed. I suggest you run back to your master with your tail between your legs while you still can."

Varric's eyes grew wide at the sound of the voice. He knew that voice. Had he come back? He hurried to finish wrapping his calf and pulled down his torn pant leg.

The captain growled. Stepping forward he forcefully grabbed the elf by the shoulder. "You are going nowhere, _slave_!"

The elf's scowl only grew darker at the action. His tattoos began to glow brightly. Tightening his fingers into a rigid claw, he spun around and plunged his hand through the captain's leather armor and into his chest elbow deep as his hand literally bore all the way through and exited the captain's back. A choked grunt was all that came from the captain as he dropped.

"I am _not _a slave!" the elf hissed at the dead body.

"Balthier!" Varric shouted in excitement as he came around the Vhenadahl. He stopped in his tracks and looked on in puzzlement at not seeing who he expected.

"You know this man, Varric?" Misery asked.

The elf, who'd been sizing up the two females in front of him, threw a curious glance at the dwarf.

Varric scratched the back of his head, still slightly confused. "Uhhh… I guess not. I could've sworn when I heard his voice it was this pirate I knew a few years back."

The thin veil of a scowl still clinging to his expression, the elf exhaled a deep breath. "I apologize… when I asked Anso to provide a distraction for the hunters, I had no idea they would be so… numerous. Fortunately Anso seems to have chosen well."

Misery's eyes narrowed, a scowl creeping across her own countenance. "I do not like being fodder in someone's grand plan. I trust you have a good reason why I shouldn't kill you now as well?"

The elf sighed. "Those men were Imperial bounty hunters. They were seeking to return me to a magister, and trying to lure me into the open by tempting me with the contents of the chest you undoubtedly came across inside. Strong as I am, I could not face them alone."

"No? You couldn't go all glowing tattoos on them and rip their hearts out too?" Misery asked sarcastically. "Or be bothered to recruit help in a more traditional way? We could have been better prepared if not for your bait and switch."

"Perhaps… perhaps the deception was unnecessary. I suppose I have become too accustomed to hiding."

"So you were a slave?" Varric asked. The elf nodded.

"Those markings," Bethany added, "are you Dalish?" The Hawke sisters had heard stories of the Dalish, but they'd never actually met one.

The elf smirked slightly at the girl's ignorance. "I am not Dalish, though I imagine these markings look rather strange to you." He sighed lightly before continuing.

"My name is Fenris. Yes, I was a slave to a Tevinter magister. He is the one that branded me with these lyrium tattoos, scorched them into my flesh. But they have served me well, as without them I would still be a slave." He paused for a moment before asking, "Tell me, what did you find inside the chest in the house?"

"Nothing," Bethany answered. "It was empty. There wasn't anything in the house but the men and the equipment they had on them."

Fenris' expression fell. "I suppose it was too much to hope for… it was just bait after all, nothing more," he muttered in resignation mainly to himself.

Misery waved her hand. She might have been sympathetic to his plight under different circumstances, but not after being used like she was. "Since the job was bullshit, am I to expect getting paid falls into the same category?"

Fenris scowled again. "And you wonder why I did not simply ask for help?" he asked sarcastically. "I have met few who are out for anything more than personal reward. You are no different." He kneeled down to loot the captain's body.

"_You _are the one that established the rules of the game," Misery hissed back. "So take your righteous indignation and shove it up your ass!"

"Sister… let's just go…" Bethany suggested.

Ignoring the taunt, Fenris huffed. "It is as I thought. My former master is involved. His seal is on this." He glanced up to meet the raven haired rogue's hostile gaze. Sighing, he held out the missive to her.

"Could… could you tell me what this says? I-I… cannot read." He averted his eyes to the ground, an expression of shame at the admission taking hold on his face despite himself.

Misery snatched the letter from his hand, her eyes rapidly scanning it. "Some guy named Danarius wants you back dead or alive. There's an address of a Hightown estate where he is apparently staying."

The elf's eyes opened wide. "This is my chance! Look, I know we did not get off to a good start, but please… I need your help going after Danarius. I cannot do it alone."

"What? Your head is as empty as the chest in that house if you think I'm helping you after what you pulled!" Misery exclaimed.

"Danarius will never stop hunting me!" Fenris pleaded, his tone growing frantic. "My only chance is to take him by surprise before he knows all of his hunters are dead. I do not have the time or means to find others to help me!"

Bethany cleared her throat lightly. "No one should rob another of their freedom for no other reason than simply because they can," she said softly.

Misery frowned at her sister. She'd just thrown the older girl's exact words from the previous day back in her face. "That is really not fair, you know."

Bethany shrugged in response, a thin smile revealing some amusement.

Varric had a thought. "Hey, Hawke? How about we make a deal with him? We're going to Hightown anyway to help Isabela. If she's right, there will be more fighting involved. So maybe he helps us with that, and then we help him with his thing?"

Rubbing her face in clear exasperation, Misery exhaled a deep breath. "He does not even have a weapon, Varric. If what he did earlier is like most magic, he isn't going to be able to just punch holes through people repeatedly without a recovery period."

Fenris scowled at the mention of magic, but held his tongue. He knew it wouldn't help him to further incite the girl that was obviously the decision maker for this group and who was already very reluctant to help. He bent down and picked up the greatsword dropped by the fallen captain.

Taking a few steps back, he twirled the sword around, making a show of demonstrating he knew how to use it. He then rid the captain's body of the harness used to carry the greatsword, equipping it and slinging the blade on his back.

"I swear, I will find a way to repay you," he said with determination.

"And I should believe you after you already lied to me?" Misery asked. Her anger hadn't completely drained.

"I am not lying now… Danarius has sent countless hunters after me. He does not want _me _back so much as he wants these lyrium brands that mark my flesh. They were a substantial investment for him, and he would strip the flesh from my body to recover them. And Danarius would not bother to kill me first. He would make me suffer the pain until I died from the process."

"Sounds like a lovely fellow," Bethany said, shaking her head in disgust.

Misery looked down when she felt a wet nose brushing against her bare fingers. She rolled her eyes at the sight of her mabari's large brown eyes staring up at her.

"You too?" she asked with a sigh. "Fuck…" she finally breathed out in resignation. She knew she'd lost.

"Let's go…" she grumbled while beginning to walk towards the stairs leading up and out of the alienage.

-==0==-

"There you are!" Isabela exclaimed in exasperation as Misery and company entered the courtyard at the base of the Viscount's Way.

The dark skinned rogue appeared to be a bit skittish, pacing back and forth restlessly. "I've been here for hours! Hayder hasn't shown up, I didn't know if you were going to show up, and it's entirely too quiet around here. I don't like this."

Varric laughed. "'I don't like this'? That ranks right up there with 'What could possibly go wrong?' and 'I've got a bad feeling about this'."

Misery frowned. This was a far cry from the cool confidence the woman had exuded the night before, and she didn't know her well enough to know if her open worry was warranted.

"Would this Hayder set up a meeting and then not show, just to mess with you?" Bethany asked.

Isabela shrugged. "He thinks I have something that someone we both worked for back in Antiva wants, so he's been trying to track me down. I don't think he'd let the opportunity go by knowing I'd be here."

"So do you actually have it?" Varric asked.

"Not anymore," she replied simply while beginning to stroll back towards the other side of the square.

Most of the others followed. A few minutes later while standing around chatting idly, Varric finally noticed what the others hadn't. "Hey! Where's Hawke?"

"She was here a minute ago," Fenris offered.

Isabela huffed in annoyance at the girl's seeming disappearance and took several paces away from the group.

Bethany glanced around. "I imagine she's-"

"There she is!" a female voice suddenly called out, interrupting the mage. The helmless, burly woman wore medium armor but carried a greataxe that looked almost ridiculous in that it was longer than she was tall. She was flanked by a pair wearing identical armor and full face helms. Only the weapons on their backs differentiated them – an archer and a swordsman.

"The half naked one, that's the wench we're looking for," the woman continued. "Gut her!"

"Coterie…" Varric grumbled while pulling Bianca from his back.

Isabela swore in frustration, both at being the target of these hired goons and at the girl she'd specifically recruited to watch her back being nowhere to be found. Nevertheless, she snatched the daggers from her back in an obviously well practiced move and dropped into a fighting stance.

The woman leading the thugs reached to take her weapon from her back. She was still in the process of hoisting it into an offensive position when an arrow she never saw coming collided with the side of her head and instantly claimed her life.

At the sight of their leader going down immediately and the realization that they were unexpectedly outnumbered, the other two Coterie assassins exchanged brief glances before turning and running away.

Isabela shook her head while kneeling down and searching the dead body on the ground.

When she found what she was after and looked up, she smirked at the sight of Misery having rejoined them.

"Nice shot," Isabela said, gesturing to the body.

Misery shrugged. "A little high, I was aiming to stick it in her ear."

Laughing, Isabela remarked, "I daresay you and I are more alike than I expected."

"Except I will likely never be referred to as 'the half naked one'," Misery replied, recalling the words the Coterie thug used.

Isabela's laughter was cut off not by Misery's sarcastic comment, but rather by the contents of a letter she found on the body. "That bastard is hiding out in the Chantry and sending thugs to do his dirty work!" she growled. "Let's go get him."

Fenris resisted the urge to display his displeasure at having to make another detour on the way to Danarius. He wasn't happy, but there wasn't much he could do about it unless he wanted to go it alone. So he skulked along at the rear of the group.

-==0==-

"Help me out here, Hawke," Varric began as the group ascended the stairs to the Chantry. "I can't decide who is more stupid, the bad guys that give these letters to the assassins they hire, which reveal exactly where and when to find them, or the assassins for carrying the letters around with them."

Misery smirked. "I vote the assassins. They are the ones that throw their lives away coming after us."

"Good point. Messing with us is… unhealthy."

"Well, let's not get overconfident," Bethany suggested.

Misery stopped and grabbed Bethany by the elbow. She leaned in close to the mage and whispered into her ear, "No magic inside unless it's the difference between life and death. The risk of being spotted by a sister or templar is too great."

After Misery pulled away, Bethany nodded in acknowledgement. And while her sister didn't state it specifically, it went without saying that they didn't know Fenris or Isabela well enough to comfortably reveal Bethany's secret.

The group entered the Chantry and moved down the hall towards the main room.

"The Chantry…" Varric sighed, thinking about their last visit. "One of these days I'm going to have to stop by during the day just to see what it's like come here without killing someone."

Isabela raised an eyebrow quizzically but didn't say anything. She'd never been in the Chantry before and her eyes were taking in all of the details, mentally cataloging the things of value to potentially steal while also staying alert for Hayder or his people.

It didn't take long. They had barely reached the main room before a brown haired man with a pony tail and wearing fairly ornate armor casually sauntered into view. The expression on his face gave away the tension his casual posturing sought to hide.

"Isabela… should've known you'd find me here."

"Tell the idiots you hire to burn the letters next time. Way to man up, by the way, hiding out with the sisters after agreeing to meet me."

Hayder forced a chuckle. "Obviously you brought friends as well. You know, Castillon was heartbroken about the shipwreck. You should've let him know you survived."

His eyes betrayed his anxiety as they flitted left and right to confirm his people had his back. He had a quartet with longbows and two with battleaxes. He was frustrated to see that what he thought was enough of a man advantage to deal with the pirate in reality only provided an even playing field.

"Oh, I'm rather certain you already have. And since you won't leave me alone, I'll just have to kill you." Isabela already had daggers in hand. She knew he wasn't going to fight her one-on-one, but that didn't stop her from goading him anyway. "Ready to duel?"

"Where is the relic?" Hayder asked pointedly, his expression filling with anger.

"I had a _shipwreck_. I _lost _it. Castillon will have to do without."

"Lost it? Hayder asked incredulously. "Just like you _lost _a ship full of valuable cargo?"

"Cargo? They were people!"

"Those slaves were worth a hundred sovereigns a head! And you just let them scurry away! Castillon won't be happy to hear the relic is gone too, I promise you that."

Misery and Bethany exchanged glances at the mention of slaves. The younger Hawke then looked over to see Fenris scowling even further than he had been, which was saying something.

Misery stepped forward. "We're obviously at an impasse if she doesn't have this 'relic'. Quite frankly, listening to your voice is giving me a headache and I still have other people to kill tonight, so I'd just assume to move this along to looting your corpse if you're not going to let it go."

"Another bitch with a smart mouth, wonderful…" Hayder said dryly while gesturing for the woman behind him and to his right.

Isabela pivoted and whipped the dagger in her right hand at the woman as she began moving forward. The blade tumbled end over end through the air, making two complete revolutions before burying itself in the woman's chest. Isabela didn't even blink as the woman fell.

"Now, now, Hayder, how many times do I have to tell you that you simply don't call a woman a 'bitch'?" she asked in a condescending tone.

Hayder answered by angrily grabbing the spiked club from his back and charging the dark skinned rogue, triggering chaos as everyone bolted into action.

-==0==-

"I mean it, Hawke," Varric grumbled as the group stepped out of the Chantry into the cool of the night air. "You're going to have to come back here with me so we can say we've been here without killing people inside. Maybe even leave a donation. We've gotta be building up bad… _something_… at the rate we're going."

After Isabela initiated things, the fighting had been fast and furious. Though the main hall was fairly large, the number of combatants cut down significantly on the amount of room to operate. Hayder's archers had been quickly overwhelmed with everyone other than Varric on the other side engaging in melee, and the dwarven rogue succeeded in pinning down the other warrior long enough to prevent her from coming to the aid of any companions.

The party took some minor wounds during the scuffle but came away relatively unscathed. And Misery came away with a few sovereigns worth of coin and gear to sell. Now it was time to catch their breath on the way to help Fenris.

Misery smirked. "Well, if we track down the bounties for that job you pulled off the Chanter's board, we will have to come back to talk to the guy that posted it. Didn't you say he was a brother?"

"Ahhh, yeah… Sebastian. Not sure how long he'll be one though after practically shooting the posting right out of the Grand Cleric's hands with an arrow."

"He's got a pair to pull a stunt like that, I'll give him that," Isabela commented with a shrug.

At the bottom of the stairs outside the Chantry, Varric turned to Isabela. "Hey, Rivaini, you doing anything other than going back to the Hanged Man?"

"Not really. I figure I'll go celebrate the riddance of that thorn in my side."

Varric nodded. "Want to help with another job we're on our way to?"

"Is this in regards to what she said earlier about still having other people to kill tonight?"

"Yeah… the broody elf's former master wants him back and won't take 'no' for an answer, so we're stopping by an estate here in Hightown to _convince_ the guy to leave Fenris alone."

"Offing a noble in his own home? Sounds like you _want _the city guard crashing down on you."

"He is a Tevinter magister," Fenris explained, "He only came to this city to retrieve me and will leave again after he gets what he wants. I do not know if he even owns the estate he is staying at, though he is very wealthy so it would not surprise me. I do not expect the guard to spend much time investigating his death, if they even find out about it."

Isabela nodded slowly while thinking about the possibilities. "Are we helping ourselves to whatever valuables we can carry out of there afterwards?"

"Definitely…" Misery answered, her first contribution to the conversation.

"Works for me then, I'm in."

-==0==-

Varric made conversation while the party made its way towards the Hightown address where Danarius was staying. "So, what's that 'relic' Castillon wants his hands on so bad?"

Isabela shrugged. "I don't know really… just that it's ancient and worth my weight in gold."

_Didn't you say earlier you had it and lost it? _Misery thought to herself. _How could you not know what it is?_ She didn't bother voicing her thoughts, content to leave the discussion alone.

"Castillon is a slaver you work for?" asked Fenris in a tone conveying both distrust and disgust.

Isabela stopped in her tracks and spun quickly. She met the elf's steely gaze, jabbing a finger at his chest while heatedly replying, "Castillon trades in many things. I smuggled for him, but _not _people. I wasn't told I was escorting a ship of slaves. When I found out he'd taken their money on the promise of taking them away from the Blight and then turned around and sold them into slavery, I _freed _them. So Castillon had me chasing down the relic as payback for it. And now I am apparently helping _you_. So stuff the attitude."

Fenris settled for a quick nod in the way of acknowledgment before stepping around the rogue and continuing on the way. Isabela made eye contact with Misery and shook her head as if to ask why they were bothering with this. She also hadn't been real impressed with his obvious desire to be elsewhere earlier, even if he had fought like a banshee once the fighting started.

_Wow…_ Varric thought while shaking his head as well, _this guy's social skills are even worse than Hawke's_.

-==0==-

Before entering Danarius' estate, Misery cleared her throat. "Fenris?" When he turned to her, she continued, "Look, you may be used to being alone, but pay attention to who is around you when swinging that big sword. You almost took my head off back at the Chantry. I don't want any friendly fire in there."

Fenris again settled for nodding in reply to the criticism sent his way. He would appease them for now, for no other reason than the anticipation of ending Danarius once and for all was driving him to avoid anything that would delay it further, even conversation.

After entering the mansion Fenris screamed out, "Danarius! Show yourself!"

Misery immediately shoved him from the side, knocking him off balance. The elf stumbled and fell over a crate.

"Shut the fuck up!" Misery hissed in a loud whisper. "In case you have not noticed, most of us here rely on the element of surprise to gain an advantage."

He quickly dragged himself to his feet and glared hard, but her scowl easier exceeded his at the moment. "You do this my way or you're on your own," she added. "Decide now."

"I… I will follow your lead," he replied reluctantly after a moment.

Misery turned away and waved for everyone to follow her in. As she walked, she couldn't help but notice the interior of the estate was in disarray. Junk lying around, crates piled haphazardly, furniture knocked over. The atmosphere was cold and lifeless.

"This place feels abandoned," Bethany said, corroborating her sister's thoughts.

"Might not even be anything worth stealing," Isabela added with a sigh.

The group passed into what was originally designed to have been a sitting room. Misery gestured to the fireplace, which had a fire going in it.

"Someone is here, anyway," Varric noted quietly.

Just then, a large group of creatures seemingly erupted from the floor, surrounding them. There were a dozen identical, tall dark red bipedal beasts that didn't appear to have feet per se, but rather hovered or floated just off the ground. They had long arms that ended in sharp claws for hands, and oblong heads with a single glowing light in the center that looked to pass for an eye.

Guttural moans came from the beasts as they closed in.

Reacting instinctively, Bethany swiped her staff in a right to left motion and a wave of ice poured forth, encrusting four of the enemies and halting their progress.

Fenris gathered himself and then lunged forward, spinning his blade and plowing through the pair in front of him. He didn't knock them completely down, but he got himself out of the center to where he had more room to operate.

Varric started to follow through the opening created by the elf, but thought better of it. He was glad Hawke had brought it up earlier, but he was still a bit uneasy about getting too close to Fenris during battle. Instead, the dwarf used his height _advantage_ to slip under the arms reaching for him and skirt away to the opposite corner of the room from where the elf went. From there he started unloading with Bianca.

Misery backflipped to evade another pair of enemies while dropping a miasmic flask in front of the spot she left. The canister burst on contact with the hard tile floor, spewing a mild toxin that briefly overwhelmed its victim's senses and rendered it unable to act.

Revas dove in behind her, leaping at one of the stunned foes, while Isabela rapidly slashed at the other one.

Misery spun just as one of the other beasts reached her. She planted her lightning enchanted dagger in its stomach, snarling as she twisted the blade and elicited a shriek of pain. "Ready to die? Then die!" she taunted as she ripped _Song of Sorrows _back out while thrusting _Cruel _into its chest. She went back and forth in a flurry before finishing it off with a sweep of both weapons that slashed its throat.

She blinked in surprise when the dying beast dissolved into a pile of ashes at her feet, but regained her focus in time to duck an incoming swing and counter. The rogue flowed around the slower moving enemy and rammed a dagger into its back.

In the middle of her thrust, Misery heard Bethany scream. She kicked her foe away before spinning back in Bethany's direction. The mage was on her back and one of the demon-like creatures hovered over her. It drew its hand back to strike and Misery gritted her teeth knowing she wouldn't be able to get there in time to intercept.

Just as the creature began to bring its arm forward, a dagger thrown by Isabela hit it in the throat, making a satisfying _thunk _sound when the guard on the hilt collided with flesh and stopped the blade's forward momentum.

The beast staggered back, the interruption giving Misery the time she needed to launch herself from the floor and drive both of her daggers into the creature's chest. The momentum of her attack knocked it to the ground. Without removing her blades, she grabbed hold of Isabela's dagger and pushed hard to the side, tearing its throat and sending it to a dissolved pile of ashes.

"Isabela!" Misery shouted while turning. She flipped the other rogue's dagger towards her, arcing the blade high in the air so that it tumbled slowly.

The Rivaini rogue's eyes narrowed. She stepped to the side and deftly snatched the dagger out of the air by the hilt before immediately spinning and slashing with it to parry an incoming attack.

Misery covered Bethany as the wounded mage pulled herself to her feet and cast a healing spell on herself.

"Get back," Bethany warned her sister in an angry tone. When Misery moved, the mage cut loose a firestorm that engulfed a quarter of the room in a magical blaze, torching the trio of creatures caught in it.

With the dwindling enemy numbers pushing the battle in their favor, it was only a few minutes longer before it was over.

-==0==-

"What were those things? Isabela asked, leaning back against a wall while she caught her breath.

Varric walked over to Fenris, who was sitting on the floor staring at his feet, seemingly lost in thought while rubbing his wounded upper right arm. "Here," he said, offering the elf a healing potion. "It'll help."

Fenris nodded numbly, taking the potion. "Danarius' pets…" he sneered in answer to Isabela's question. "He sends them rather than face me himself!" He popped the cork on the potion and began downing it.

Varric's expression turned contemplative for a moment. "I think… I think they're called 'geth'."

When the others glanced over at him, he continued, "Back when I was running a shop, I met this guy Shepard that came in wearing the craziest armor I'd ever seen. He was trying to track something down and I sold him a set of blood dragon armor so he'd fit in better around here and not draw attention. Anyway, I got to know him a bit and he told me some stories about fighting tons of these things called 'geth' that he described as having flashlight heads… just like these things had."

While the others nodded, Bethany shrugged. "Father told me of them. He called them 'shades', said they were basically demons outside the Fade that haven't possessed a mortal body. Judging from the relative ease we got through them, I'd say these were a lesser variety."

"And wherever there are demons, a mage is sure to follow," Fenris added while affixing Bethany with a hard glare.

"Excuse me?" she asked.

Fenris waved his hand dismissively, not wanting to waste time arguing. "Let's just go find Danarius."

Misery folded her arms over her chest, not moving. "You have a problem with my sister?"

The elf scowled. "That remains to be seen."

"What are you implying about Sunshine?" Varric asked in a mildly defensive tone.

"Only that I will be keeping my eye on her. Nothing more."

"You're not the brightest bunny in the forest, are you?" Misery asked. "Bethany argued on your behalf for us even to be here, she's already been wounded helping you, she killed more of these damned shades than you did, and this is how you thank her?"

Fenris sighed, clearly frustrated by their lack of urgency. "I… I just want to get Danarius… Can we talk about this later?"

"By all means, go get Danarius," she replied with the wave of a hand before turning to Varric. "Stay if you want, but I am done with this idiot. Bethany, Revas, let's go."

"Sister…" Bethany said softly. She felt a rush of pride at her sister coming so strongly to her defense, but she hadn't taken offense at Fenris' behavior because she suspected that having been a slave to a cruel magister for so long had colored his opinion of all mages.

"Do not start! I will _not_ risk the few things that matter to me for someone who doesn't even appreciate it!"

"Misery is right, Sunshine," Varric added. "How can you watch his back without being able to trust that he'll watch yours?"

He joined the older Hawke and Revas in moving towards the way they came in. Isabela was still leaning against the wall. Seeing the mage not following right away, she was waiting for the final verdict on what they were going to do.

Bethany tapped her foot in irritation. "I'm staying," she said stubbornly, causing Misery to stop in her tracks. At the glare her older sister shot her, she continued, "Fenris needs to see that not all mages are like his former master. That some of us simply want the same right that he wants – the right to be free and to live a normal life. So I'm staying."

Misery fumed at her sister's insistence on staying to help, that Bethany knew she was in effect forcing Misery to stay as well since there was no conceivable way the rogue would leave her in this situation.

Fenris' conflicted expression fell to his feet. Without meeting anyone's gaze he quietly said, "I… look, I escaped a land of dark magic, only to be hunted and haunted by it ever since. I admit I do not know what to make of finding myself suddenly in the company of another mage. I am… sorry… for offending you. I realize I appear ungrateful for your help, but nothing could be further from the truth."

"Yeah, well… anything bad happens to my sister and I am holding _you _responsible," Misery said while stalking back towards Fenris. "And you will wish you'd never left Danarius by the time I am done with you," she added darkly. "So I suggest you protect her life as if it were your own."

The raven haired rogue brushed past him without waiting for a response, motioning for the others to follow further into the estate.

-==0==-

An hour of tedious grinding through shades and rage demons later, the party found itself in the empty bedchambers of Danarius.

Fenris hung his head in dejection. "I had hoped… no… it does not matter any longer. Danarius is gone."

"Probably took off when someone loudly announced their presence back in the entry hall," Misery replied pointedly.

She was exhausted, beaten up, was already dreading their early morning departure for Sundermount, and was pissed off that they'd fought through all of those demons only to fail in their primary objective. Her gut feeling was that Bethany would have them stuck with Fenris until they dealt with Danarius.

"Come on, Hawke, go a little easier on him," Varric suggested. "If Danarius was here, he had plenty of time to escape with as long as it took us to get up here. It felt like we fought the entire Fade."

Fenris sighed deeply. "I need some air… I will be outside while you collect whatever valuables are in here." With that he slinked out of the room.

"Party time!" Isabela exclaimed in a tone that was an attempt at cheerfulness but was weighed down by fatigue. The others chuckled politely anyway.

-==0==-

_At least coming here was not a complete waste of time_, Misery thought as they were on the way out of Danarius' mansion, a thought shared by Varric and Isabela. Between all of them they'd managed to pack away a decent amount of loot.

"Hey, Misery?" Isabela began. "If you're interested, I'll keep tagging along and helping you out with things, if you'll help me get the relic back once I've tracked it down."

Misery nodded slowly while thinking. "On one condition."

When Isabela raised an eyebrow curiously, Misery smirked. "I want you to teach me to throw blades like you do."

It hadn't been lost on her that Isabela used that skill to her advantage in battle. Misery had only tried it a few times ever, always in situations where she couldn't get to someone's aid quickly enough, and she'd never managed to actually stick the point of the blade in an enemy.

Isabela smirked back. "Agreed."

"I would offer my assistance as well should you need it," Fenris said, having overheard the conversation as the others came outside. Personal feelings aside, he was impressed with their skills and thought they were his best chance to keep Danarius from succeeding in getting him back.

Misery's eyes narrowed. She had to admit the elf was a heck of a warrior, and she didn't even really care that his personality was grating. But she did care that he was openly antagonistic towards Bethany.

"My sister is a mage and that will not be changing. Are you going to continue to make her feel uncomfortable in your presence?"

Fenris paused for a moment before replying. "My experience with mages has not been pleasant to say the least. But if your sister is true to what she says, there will be no problems between us. I can promise no more than that."

Misery nodded. _Not good enough_, she thought, but decided on a noncommittal reply instead. "Should I decide to call upon you, where will you be?"

Fenris gestured with his thumb back towards the front door to the estate. "I believe I will take the estate. If it truly is abandoned then I shall have my solitude. If Danarius returns I shall have my revenge."

A thought briefly ran through Misery's mind, a question of whether or not she could possibly figure out how to get the ownership of this estate into her name and move her family here. She pushed it away though. _Too many complications to sort through right now._

Varric cleared his throat. "Well, guys, I've got a bed calling my name and an early day tomorrow. So let's get out of here." He nodded at Fenris before turning and beginning to walk away.

The dwarf wanted to quickly extricate himself and the others from the scene before Sunshine opted to invite Fenris on the trip to Sundermount. He wasn't sure he was up to handling it on short rest. Between the brooding elf, Hawke, Anders, and Aveline…

_Angst overload_, he thought grimly.

Fortunately for him, any protests were overcome by fatigue and the others simply followed his lead. He let a chuckle escape when Hawke sidled up next to him, put her hand on his shoulder, and tiredly whispered, "Thanks…"

.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: This chapter gave me fits. I wanted to come up with a reasonable scenario where Misery would help someone like Fenris under the circumstances - having been lied to in the bait &amp; switch, his attitude towards them (especially Bethany), and with no perceived value in it to herself. I think making Bethany the sympathetic figure that pushed it along worked out, but let me know if you disagree :-) I also didn't want to overdo the combat in what's largely a hack and slash section. So I tried to balance that too.<strong>

**Final Fantasy XII reference for anyone who didn't catch it, 'Balthier' is one of the main characters in that game and is voiced by the same actor as Fenris without hardly any differences in the way he delivers lines. Being a big FF12 fan, it was almost startling to me when Fenris started speaking for the first time.**

**I can't imagine there would be many readers that didn't get the Mass Effect reference with Shepard and the geth, but there it is if you didn't. Yeah, Varric knows *everyone***


	9. Bonding and Breaking

**AN: Based on reader feedback I edited out a couple of shots at humor that went awry and broke story immersion. So if you look at other reviews and wonder what they're talking about, that's what :-)**

* * *

><p>Misery sighed deeply at the sound of her sister's giggling coming from roughly a hundred feet behind her. She didn't need to look back to know that she and Anders were holding hands again while the party trudged along the winding trails leading upwards on Sundermount, the largest of the mountains making up the Vimmark Mountains north of Kirkwall.<p>

It had been three days since she, Varric, Aveline, Anders, Bethany, and Revas had set out from Kirkwall for Sundermount. In that time they'd completed Aveline's job of intercepting the raiders planning the caravan ambush, and moved on from there further into the mountains. The two mages had gravitated towards each other's company, and spent most of the days and evenings talking.

Varric chuckled at the sound of exasperation coming from the rogue to his left. "Sunshine and Blondie getting on your nerves?" he asked, his tone revealing his amusement.

Misery didn't bother turning her head to glare at him. "These mountains aren't safe. They need to pay less attention to each other and more attention to our surroundings. Not treat this like we are out for a casual stroll."

"Uh huh… you've already got your guard dog back there with them. So what's _really _bothering you? You've been very quiet all day today, even by your standards." He already had a good idea that she strongly disliked how close Anders and Bethany had become in the time since the group had set out from Kirkwall, but he wanted to see if Hawke would admit it on her own.

Misery briefly closed her eyes at the sound of rather loud laughter coming from the pair of mages. She knew she'd become increasingly irritable about those two, and that their lack of awareness wasn't the key reason. And it certainly wasn't jealousy over Bethany meeting someone, which the younger girl had all but accused her of during a private conversation the night before.

She glanced up at the sky while considering if she wanted to reply, and if so what she wanted to say. _Probably a few more hours until it will time to stop and camp_, she thought absentmindedly. Much to her chagrin, they weren't going to reach where they'd been told the Dalish camp was located before nightfall.

Turning her thoughts back to Varric's question, she finally decided on a partial answer. "Anders has obvious commitment issues and Bethany is being naïve in thinking it will be different with her."

"Oh, I don't know. Merging with Justice was a damn big commitment."

"Do not even get me started on the abomination stuff," she replied, her tone carrying an undercurrent of warning. After several moments of silence she continued, "How committed to Karl could he really have been if less than a week later he's already moving into a new relationship? Not only that, I saw the looks he was giving Bethany at his clinic the morning after he killed Karl. He was already moving on to his next conquest."

"Conquest? You make it sound like he's trying to take advantage of her."

Misery waved her hand. "Conquest, _experience_, whatever you want to call it. I got the impression from his spiel about loving men and women equally that he goes for whoever strikes his fancy at the moment. That does _not_ impress me."

"Maybe he wasn't as close to Karl as we think?"

"Well, what about the Grey Wardens? I don't know much about them, but even Anders admits it's supposed to be a life commitment. And he bailed out on them."

"Yeah…" he mumbled before falling silent. He could see her point, but he also thought this was Sunshine's choice to make. Not that he was going to tell Misery that.

"I know it's her decision," Misery added a couple of minutes later, as if reading his mind. "But it doesn't mean I'm going to stop looking out for her best interests."

Varric started to reply, but loud barking at the rear of the group got everyone's attention.

"Bandits!" Misery shouted while drawing her bow. "Form up!"

-==0==-

The raven haired rogue fumed at Bethany's apologetic gaze while the younger girl healed her. The battle had started off poorly because the bandits had gotten the jump on them from behind. Despite the warning from Revas, the oblivious mages got hit by crossbow bolts before becoming aware of the number and locations of the enemies.

Aveline and Revas took off after the archers while Varric and Misery covered them. But by the time the pair of mages got involved on the offensive side of the battle, the two rogues had been overrun and were at a significant disadvantage. If not for the former Grey Warden's healing magic, the battle likely would have been lost.

Misery spun away from her sister as soon as she finished with her. "Loot the bodies!" she ordered. "And cut the emblems off their armor."

"Why's that?" Varric asked.

"These guys match the description of the Flint Company mercenaries that we have Sebastian's bounty for. He would have to be pretty damned stupid to simply take our word for it that we took out a group of them, so we'll take the emblems back as proof."

"Good thinking, Hawke," Aveline replied with an approving nod. She moved towards to start collecting emblems.

After finishing up with the mercenaries, Misery silently continued up the path, the unspoken expectation for everyone to follow clear. Several minutes later she pointed to a small clearing off the trail that she'd spied. "We will make camp there," she declared.

She scowled at the puzzled expressions her order raised on her companions' faces, knowing they were all questioning why they were shutting it down for the day earlier than usual. But she didn't feel like she needed to explain herself. Instead, she harshly issued additional orders.

"Bethany, you're on cooking duty. Aveline, set out the bedrolls. Varric, dig a fire pit. Revas, keep watch for more bandits. Anders, come with me to collect firewood."

"Hey!" Varric protested, "Why do I have to dig?"

"Isn't that what dwarves do?" Misery asked. Under different circumstances she'd have winked or flashed a grin to show she was teasing, but in her current mood she let her remark stand on its own.

"See, now that's just stereotyping. Not all of us are into the whole tunneling miles underground thing."

Misery only scowled further at the look that passed between Anders and Bethany. It wasn't lost on anyone that Misery taking Anders away from the others was premeditated, but the two mages were the only ones to overtly acknowledge it.

"Sister…" Bethany began before Misery waved her off. The mage sighed, halting her protest.

"Good luck, Blondie," Varric offered with a wink, hoping to defuse the tension. Anders chuckled a bit uneasily, but followed Misery into the wooded area.

-==0==-

Anders took a deep breath. He'd been off with Misery for several minutes gathering fallen branches, and though his companion was visibly agitated, so far she hadn't said anything. The anticipation was making him tenser by the minute.

"So… I'm sorry about earlier…" he began, trying to break the ice. "You know, for getting caught off guard. I won't let it happen again."

Misery turned around to face the mage. "If I can't trust you with a little thing like watching out so bandits don't get the drop on her, how can I trust you to have her best interests in mind with bigger things?"

"Ahhh… so _that's _what this is about." Anders folded his arms over his chest. "You're worried about the big bad abomination being close to your sister."

"That's part of it," she admitted. "You said it yourself that Justice knows no mercy and that you have no control over him when he takes over. Can you guarantee you'll be able to protect her from him?"

Anders sighed in frustration. _This is why I don't tell people about Justice._ "It's not like that. Justice is an extension of me, and me of him. Even when I do lose control of myself and he comes out, he's not without the ability to reason. I've never regained control afterwards and found out that he'd caused me to attack a friend or ally."

Misery nodded. "Still, you haven't been merged with him for so long a time to know for sure it won't happen."

"I… suppose not…"

"Tell me, Anders, is Bethany just another notch in your bedpost to you?"

"Wh-what's that supposed to mean?"

Misery's eyes narrowed. "I noticed how quickly you got over Karl. The next fucking morning you were exchanging looks with Bethany. Some commitment to him, eh? And the stuff about loving men and women equally makes it clear you've had multiple relationships in the past."

"Look, Karl and I were lovers, but not in love, if that makes any sense. I cared deeply for him, but it would've been more accurate to say we were good friends that occasionally enjoyed each other's physical company than to say we were together."

"Yeah… not making me feel any better about your commitment issues," Misery replied sarcastically.

Anders scowled. "Let's cut to the chase, shall we? Are you telling me to stay away from Bethany?"

After a several second pause, Misery began to shake her head slowly. "No… she's my little sister, but she's a grown woman capable of deciding for herself. I just don't want her getting hurt by her desperation."

"Desperation? Desperate for what?"

"Bethany is the type that wants nothing more than to grow up, get married, have children, and live happily ever after. She's not unaccustomed to guys being interested in her, but always having to worry about being discovered as an apostate and how that would affect both her and the family, she's never been in a position to return anyone's interest before now."

Anders silently filled in his own conclusion. _So her interest in me could be nothing more than I'm the first man she's been around that knows what she is and can relate to it._

"Anders?" Misery asked when he didn't reply for a minute or so. The mage drew his eyes from the ground in front of him and looked over at her, silently prompting her to continue.

"Despite all we've been through, Bethany has somehow managed to retain some of her innocence. She's such a sweet girl… everything I am not. And I guarantee she is _not_ looking for a 'friends with benefits' relationship, so you need to think very carefully about what your intentions are with her before it progresses too far," she warned.

"So how did you two come from the same environment yet end up so different?" he asked, mostly trying to redirect the topic of conversation away from him.

"Coming from the same environment doesn't mean we have the same life experiences."

"True…" he replied, trailing off in expectation that she'd continue. When she didn't, he asked, "Are you saying your life has been rougher than hers?"

Misery detected the tinge of accusation in the former warden's tone, implying that Bethany's life as an apostate was by default more difficult. She shook her head.

"Not rougher. Just… different. I imagine you've done quite a few things you're not proud of in the name of survival, in the name of freedom?"

Anders shrugged as if to say "Of course," without actually verbalizing his response. Misery nodded before continuing, "Yes, well, as you know, Bethany is not an escapee of the Circle. She's been free her whole life, at least as much as an apostate can ever truly be free. But whereas you had to survive on your own after breaking free of the Circle, she grew up with a strong family around her that functioned as her sword and shield."

Nodding slowly, Anders concluded, "So you were raised to be her shield."

"Sometimes… but more often I've been her sword. And she doesn't know the half of what Father and I did over the years to ensure both that he would never go back to the Circle and that she'd never spend a single day there. Mother knows even less. And I've kept both of them in the dark about much of the wickedness I was forced to carry out in Athenril's service, jobs I made damned sure Bethany was excluded from."

"Your father… he sounds like a great man."

"He was."

"After he died, it didn't fall to your brother to… you know, take up his stead?"

Misery briefly wondered how much Bethany had already told him, knowing that her sister had a more outgoing personality that she did. Still, she trusted Bethany to be careful with personal details.

"Carver was an immature 14-year old at the time. Father knew he was dying and there simply wasn't time to finish Carver's training. I was already at the age of majority, I already knew many of Father's contacts, the merchants he used to procure things we couldn't produce on our small farm, and how to proactively keep prying eyes away from the family."

"'Proactively keep prying eyes away'… An awfully fancy way to describe killing," Anders replied with a smirk.

Misery shrugged unapologetically. "If necessary. It was also knowing how to mine information at the tavern from travelers passing through. Sometimes keeping us safe merely involved a well-timed out of town journey to visit cousins."

"I-I suppose I've only considered the difficulties of being a mage on the run from the point of view of actually being the mage. And here I'd thought you would've had the easier time of things. I… I guess not."

"In any case, I am still Bethany's sword and shield, and I will not hesitate to strike down anyone that hurts her or is a threat to do so. So again I tell you, think _very _carefully about your intentions with her. Do _not _pursue this relationship if you aren't willing to commit your heart to it."

Misery's expression began to turn dark as she continued speaking. "Because I swear this to you now – if you ruin what innocence she has left and expect to simply walk away afterwards, you are sorely mistaken. There will be no escape from me, and I will make you beg for the templars to come save you."

Anders bristled at the verbal dressing down he was receiving, his sympathetic mood from moments earlier shattered. He felt his anger rising, but fought to keep it suppressed. To lash out now would only confirm in her mind that he was a danger unable to control himself. He gritted his teeth at having to just take it.

"Are we done here?" he asked pointedly.

Misery nodded curtly. "Finish gathering wood and we'll head back."

-==0==-

Bethany turned towards the sound of boots scuffling the earth, which signaled the approach of the firewood she was waiting on. But more than that, it was the approach of the two people at the forefront of her mind. She was anxious to find out what transpired between them while they were off alone.

Varric groaned as he looked over at their approach.

"Told you so," Aveline stated smugly while holding out her hand.

"Yeah, yeah…" Varric muttered while digging in his pack. He made a production out of painstakingly producing five silvers and dropping them one at a time into the warrior's outstretched hand.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Varric."

"What's that about?" Misery asked as she dropped the wood she was carrying into the pit the dwarf had dug. "By the way, nice work on the pit, Digger."

Varric blanched. "'Digger' will _not_ be my new nickname, Hawke."

"Varric bet me five silver that you'd be coming back alone," Aveline explained.

Anders chuckled sardonically while shaking his head at the dwarf. "You sound rather disappointed that she didn't."

"Only about the coin, Blondie. Only about the coin."

Misery scowled. "Thanks for the vote of confidence." She walked away from the group in a huff.

"Shit… that was supposed to make her laugh, not get more upset," Varric said once she got out of earshot.

After roughly thirty yards, Misery plopped down and leaned back against a large boulder, briefly staring back at the group she could still plainly see but wasn't close enough to hear.

Revas, who had followed automatically, lay down and curled up at her side. He had the uncanny ability to sense what she needed from him, whether it was being a vigilant protector, a playful companion, or to merely provide reassuring comfort with his presence like he was doing now.

Just as automatic was Misery's hand gravitating to her dog's head, absentmindedly scratching him behind the ears and massaging the back of his neck and shoulders while closing her eyes and losing herself in thought. A slight smile tugged at her lips after a couple of minutes when his steady breathing turned to snores. Feeling some of the day's stress washing off, she indulged her own weariness and drifted off.

-==0==-

"So, Blondie," Varric began in an amused tone after Misery had gone and sat down, "You appear to still be intact, so I guess it could've been worse, huh?"

Bethany glanced up from the pot she was working over. She'd planned to pull Anders aside as soon as she could to find out what happened, but it looked like Varric was going to bring it up for group discussion.

Anders scoffed. "For now at least. I might need to cast a ward to keep my balls from being cut off in my sleep though."

"What did she say?" Bethany asked softly.

Loudly exhaling a deep breath, Anders rubbed the stubble on his cheeks. "Oh, it was a 'Come to the Maker' meeting. Complete with threatening my life to reinforce her point."

"Maker's breath…" Bethany sighed in frustration. "I'm so sorry she did that to you."

"Yeah, well… fortunately you're worth the abuse," he replied with a wink that caused the female mage to blush and Varric to laugh.

"We'll see if you're still saying that a year from now," Aveline replied dryly. She didn't intend to stick her nose into the younger Hawke's business, but she was with Misery in doubting Anders' long-term staying power.

Anders held his hands over his heart. "You wound me," he said mockingly.

The redhead waved her hand dismissively, but couldn't suppress a grin even though she didn't say anything further.

Bethany giggled lightly at the silliness of her fellow mage, thankful for him lightening the mood. When Anders smiled at her she winked back, and with a nod indicated that she'd talk to him more about what happened later when they could have some privacy.

The group fell into a comfortable silence while Bethany worked on dinner. That is, until noises coming from a little ways away got everyone's attention. They looked over to see Misery thrashing, grunting, and groaning.

"Sister!" Bethany yelped, taking off running immediately. The others quickly followed.

-==0==-

Misery jerked awake with an audible gasp. The strong hands of Aveline held her arms in place, preventing her from immediately lashing out. As it was, it took the rogue a couple of moments to become fully aware of where she was. She pulled her knees up to her chest and her head slumped forward while she took fast, shallow breaths.

"Misery, what happened?" Varric asked.

Aveline released her grip on Misery and stood back up once it became apparent she was back in control of herself. Misery put her face in her hands. "N-nothing… I-I am fine," she grunted.

Varric frowned. "Everyone who believes that raise their hands." When no one did, he added, "Sorry, Hawke, it's unanimous. You're full of shit."

"The witch…" Bethany stated knowingly. "Flemeth haunts her dreams."

"Shut up!" Misery growled.

"That damned amulet," the young mage continued. "I think it's a medium of sorts. I don't know why it matters so much, but the witch somehow senses through the amulet that it hasn't been given to the Dalish keeper yet. And it's clear she won't leave my sister alone until the task is done."

"I said, shut up!" Misery coughed violently before biting down hard on her bottom lip to suppress the groan that tried to escape.

"Is she okay? Do we need to do something other than stand around watching her suffer?" Varric asked in concern.

Anders thought about sending some healing magic her way, but he was still irate with her for earlier and not above being petty. So he did nothing.

"Let her be…" Bethany said softly. "Give her a few minutes to catch her breath."

It was Aveline's turn to frown. "Does this happen to you too?" she asked Bethany. "I haven't experienced anything like what you're describing."

"No, it doesn't," Bethany admitted.

Aveline shook her head. "Why just Misery then? You and I were there too when the deal was made to deliver the amulet. And just how long has this been going on?"

Bethany shrugged at the redheaded guard. "Since about a month after we arrived in Kirkwall. At first it was maybe once a month. That I know of anyway. Lately it's been every few days."

"Bethany… stop it… just… stop it." Misery said weakly. Her head was still pounding. She felt like someone had driven spikes right behind her eyes, which she kept clenched shut because during the brief time she had them open earlier she had to fight back the urge to throw up.

Ignoring her sister's protests, Bethany continued, "Maybe the witch only torments her because she's the one that actually made the deal and accepted the amulet."

Varric sighed. "So this is what she meant when she said this trip was necessary." Bethany nodded solemnly in response.

"Damn it, you two," Aveline began, her tone stern. "You should have told me this was going on. Even if Athenril refused to let you make the delivery on her time, I would have made sure it got delivered. It wasn't like _I _didn't have the time."

"Don't think I didn't try to convince her to let you take it," the younger Hawke replied.

"Is she that stubborn about _everything_?" Anders asked.

Misery growled again. "It is _my _duty, _my _responsibility. I don't abandon _my _commitments," she said without looking up. Her implication was clear though.

"All hail the bloody fucking Divine herself, Misery Hawke," the former Grey Warden replied acerbically. He'd had more than enough of her attitude.

Misery finally looked up. The pounding in her head had subsided to a dull throb and she was incensed by the whole situation. "It doesn'ttake being divine to have _honor_. So why don't you run along now? After all, running away is what you do, isn't it?"

"Hawke…" Varric began. He could see this getting ugly and was trying to head it off.

Before he could continue, however, Anders took an aggressive step forward and the magical energy around him began to glow. Reacting on instinct, Misery immediately raised her hand and began to utter words in a foreign tongue.

"No!" Bethany screeched, practically leaping forward to clamp her hand over her sister's mouth. "Don't you dare! Anders, back off!"

The male mage caught himself even before Aveline stepped in front of him, and he let the energies dissipate while taking a few steps back. As he turned back towards the central part of the camp he frowned for a different reason.

"Bethany, your pot is boiling over."

"Maker's breath!" she swore as she turned and bolted to save the group's dinner. Anders and Aveline followed at a much more leisurely pace.

Varric chuckled, offering his hand to Misery. "Come on, Divine, let's go eat some burnt porridge. It'll make you feel better."

Misery smirked and accepted his help getting up before replying, "Lead the way, Digger."

"Ummm… yeah… how about I don't call you 'Divine' if you don't call me 'Digger'?"

"Deal."

-==0==-

"Got this one during my second escape," Anders said with a slight chuckle while gesturing to a long scar running up his right forearm. "Or maybe it was my third?"

It was a few hours later and darkness had settled in over this part of Thedas. Not having bought tents for the trip, the group was sitting around the campfire on their bedrolls. Fortunately, the hostility between Misery and Anders had cooled as rapidly as the mountain air after sunset, and they were coexisting peacefully as the group conversation bounced from topic to topic.

Varric shook his head. "How many times did you get caught before finally getting away for good?"

"For good?" Anders repeated softly. "An apostate can't think in those terms. I'm currently on my seventh escape, which has fortunately lasted longer than any of the previous ones. But we can't ever think we're beyond the Chantry's reach. As soon as we do, the templars swoop in… and as Warden Commander Alistair liked to say, swooping is bad."

Aveline briefly wondered if Wesley had ever tracked down and caught Anders. She knew of course that her husband had been a mage hunter, but he rarely spoke of the specifics of individual missions.

"Seven…" Bethany said quietly. Anders had already told her this in previous days, but it was still hard for her to believe. She admired his persistence, the strength of his resolve.

"Templars are a rather persistent lot, huh?" Varric asked. He'd heard plenty of stories, but as a dwarf that didn't deal in lyrium either legally or illegally, he rarely had cause to interact with mages in general or with the Chantry organization.

"It's their job," Aveline said simply.

Anders scowled. "Bunch of bloody sadists using Andraste to justify the oppression and horror they inflict."

Misery cleared her throat lightly after glancing over and catching Aveline close her eyes briefly. "You might not want to toss all templars into the same basket in present company," the rogue began. "Aveline's deceased husband, Ser Wesley, was a Fereldan templar."

Anders opened his mouth to speak, but closed it and fell silent. He racked his brain trying to remember if he'd ever encountered a Ser Wesley either at the Circle Tower or during his escape attempts. He came up empty though. He took a peek at Aveline to his right, on the other side of Bethany. He noticed that the warrior was staring blankly at the fire.

"Aveline, how did Wesley die?" Varric asked.

She sighed, not taking her gaze from the fire. "Misery killed him," she finally answered in a solemn tone after a few moments.

Anders and Varric both stiffened at the revelation, while Misery merely rolled her eyes at the way Aveline presented it.

"What?" Varric asked in surprise. "H-Hawke? You killed Aveline's husband?" _How in the Void are these two women friends after that?_

"Only in the most literal sense of the word."

"The 'most literal sense'? What other way is there to kill someone?" Varric asked incredulously.

The raven haired rogue glanced over at Aveline. "It's your story to tell, not mine."

Aveline shook her head. "No, it's fine, go ahead."

Sighing, Misery took a moment to collect her thoughts before beginning to speak. "It was right after we had been saved by the Witch of the Wilds and I'd agreed to take the amulet to the Dalish keeper outside of Kirkwall…"

-==0==-

_Mireille nodded solemnly, taking in the witch's heavy gaze. _

_What was it she called herself again? Mireille asked herself. Flemeth? Asha'somethingsoundingelven? Probably not going to go over well just calling her 'Witch of the Wilds' she thought. _

"_Thank you, Flemeth. I will see that the amulet reaches the Dalish keeper," Mireille replied._

_The witch nodded once before looking over Mireille's left shoulder. "Before I clear a path to Gwaren, however, there is another matter." She brushed past the rogue and stalked in the direction of Ser Wesley, who was sitting propped up against a boulder, holding his arm over his stomach in obvious distress. His skin had paled, the veins underneath creating dark lines across his face and neck._

_Aveline, who had been knelt down at her husband's side, leapt to her feet immediately. "No!" she declared angrily. "Leave him alone!"_

_An almost sympathetic expression formed on the witch's face. "What has been done to your man is within his blood already. He will not make it."_

"_That's a lie!" the warrior declared, refusing to accept that she couldn't save him._

_Wesley coughed. "No, Aveline, she's right. I can feel the corruption inside me. Th-the blasted darkspawn that wounded me… I f-feel its t-taint."_

_Mireille looked over at Flemeth, who had only a short time ago transformed from a dragon into the human standing before her. The woman looked ancient, yet ageless at the same time. Striking amber eyes were framed by shadows of stories untold, smooth skin marked with the deep lines of age only around those eyes. She wore a metal headband that almost reminded her of a tiara, though it was nothing like the tiaras worn by princesses in portraits and storybooks Mireille had seen in the past. _

_The headband rose upwards from the middle of her forehead to a sharp point, and around the back of her head served as a sort of terrace that held up much of her long white hair. Four bundles of hair were tied off stiffly in red cord, giving the appearance of horns. It was an unusual but undoubtedly carefully crafted look._

_Along the same lines, Mireille strongly doubted that Flemeth's body was the result of natural aging. She wore tight, dark red leathers that hugged her shapely curves, exposing smooth skinned cleavage despite the impracticality of the armor not covering her chest. Then again, when she could turn into a dragon it was possible she never had to worry about fighting anyone as a human. Flemeth carried herself with grace, but her appearance suggested danger, much like the low even tones she spoke in._

"_Is there nothing you can do for him?" Mireille asked. "You are obviously a wielder of powerful magic."_

_A very slight smirk crept across Flemeth's face. More than you know, Child, she thought to herself before replying, "The only cure I know of is to become a Grey Warden."_

_Aveline's expression fell further. "And they all died at Ostagar…"_

"_Not all," corrected Flemeth, adding, "but the last are now well beyond your reach."_

_All eyes turned back towards Wesley, who was in the process of drawing his ceremonial dagger from a boot sheath. He wore a look of resignation to his fate on his face._

"_Aveline… listen to me…"_

"_No, Wesley. You can't ask me this! I won't!"_

"_Please, my love… The corruption is a slow death. I can't…" he fell into a coughing fit that lasted several seconds before subsiding. "Please…" he pleaded._

_Aveline closed her eyes. The proud warrior was obviously fighting not to cry._

"_Bethany," Mireille said while gesturing back towards the main trail, "take everyone up around that bend. I will be along shortly. Aveline… go with them please."_

_The warrior frowned at the raven haired scoundrel, thinking back to first encountering her earlier in the day and how the girl had been more than prepared to kill Wesley then if he hadn't backed down about Bethany. She did not want to have to put her own husband to the blade, but she also wasn't sure she could leave it to Mireille either._

_Mireille saw the conflict etched on the woman's face. "Aveline…" she began gently, "Remember him in life… not in death granted by your hand. I will be quick and merciful, I promise you this."_

_Aveline hesitated, but finally closed her eyes again and nodded sadly. She opened her eyes again, staring for a long moment into the eyes of her husband through unshed tears. _

"_Be strong, my love," Wesley softly pleaded. Not trusting her voice, she simply nodded again before leaning in and kissing him one last time. Her eyes and trembling lips gave away the emotion she refused to give voice to. But she silently communicated everything that needed to be said. Finally she pulled away and left to join the others, leaving Mireille and Wesley alone._

"_I trust you will keep your promise to be quick and merciful," Wesley said with more than a little bitterness in his tone as he handed Mireille his dagger._

"_Duty places us in conflict, but I take no pleasure in this, Ser Wesley," Mireille replied softly. "And for whatever value it holds for you, you have my word that I will do everything I can to see Aveline to safety. I will protect her as my own family."_

_The tension drained from Wesley's face and a slight smile formed. "Thank you…" he whispered._

"_M-may the Maker guide your soul…" she whispered back, her own eyes beginning to glisten. _

_Mireille lined up the point of the dagger with the seam of his armor underneath his left armpit, then closed her eyes and thrust hard and fast. Only a brief hiss came from Wesley as the blade pierced the skin on its way to his heart._

_After a few moments she backed the blade out, placing it in his hands before resting them on his chest. She then reached up and gently closed his eyes. Standing up, she nodded one last time at the body._

"_May the Maker guide your soul…" she echoed softly._

-==0==-

Misery trailed off as she finished the story. As with Aveline, her gaze was locked on the fire in front of her. "Fucking Blight…" she muttered after half a minute went by in silence.

"You lost your brother right around that same time, didn't you?" Varric asked in a somber tone.

"Yeah… not even an hour before Wesley."

Bethany sighed deeply. "And the Blight claimed Father three years before that."

Varric raised an eyebrow curiously. Realizing he needed to tread very lightly with his question, he gently asked, "The accounts I've seen and heard say the Blight only lasted a year. Did it really go longer than that?"

Misery scoffed. "The darkspawn don't issue a formal proclamation announcing the start of a Blight. It began long before the idiots in Denerim ever declared it as such."

Anders nodded solemnly. "Back when I was at Vigil's Keep, the Grey Warden fortress in Amaranthine, the Warden Commander told me that he and the Hero of Ferelden spent more time trying to unite the armies of Ferelden than actually fighting darkspawn. It was only formally acknowledged by the nobility and the crown as a Blight about a week before it actually ended. But the darkspawn were active in southern Ferelden long before that."

"A week long Blight, huh?" Varric asked. "Bet that was anticlimactic."

Anders gave a sarcastic laugh. "Yeah, except apparently afterwards the nobility looked back and decided to consider the betrayal of King Cailan and the Grey Wardens at Ostagar as the official start of it. I got the impression giving Amaranthine to the wardens was the queen's way of apologizing."

"You make it sound like you weren't around at the time," Varric noted. "You didn't help end the Blight?"

"No, I was recruited maybe six months after they took down the archdemon."

Varric raised an eyebrow quizzically. "Ummm… how long did you say you were in Amaranthine again?"

Anders shrugged. "Well, we did some fighting, rebuilt a keep, did some more fighting… I'd guess about nine months. Why?"

"That makes no sense, Blondie. From what you're saying, it'd have to be a good year and a half from the end of the Blight until you arrived in Kirkwall, but the Blight only ended five or six months ago."

"Maybe Anders tells time as well as you do," Misery suggested in a sarcastic reference to the dwarf not waiting anywhere near a full hour before following her into the Amell estate cellar.

Varric waved his hand as if to say, "Whatever."

Bethany glanced questioningly over at her sister. Misery caught the glance and knew what she was asking. With a sigh she reluctantly nodded.

"We didn't know it was Blight sickness at the time, but that's what Father died from," Bethany said. "He'd read an entry on apostates in a codex at the Lothering Chantry and got intrigued by the mention of 'hedge mages'. They are a type of apostate living in the Hinterlands, which run about as far south as you can go in Ferelden, and they apparently practice magic that is very different than the common Circle of Magi tradition."

"Anyway," Bethany continued, "Father took me with him and his friend Barlin, and we traveled down south in search of some of these hedge mages to possibly learn from. I remember Father was especially interested in possible techniques for hiding magical abilities, saying the vagueness of the codex entry suggested that these hedge mages were a bit of a blind spot to the Chantry."

The young mage paused briefly, shaking her head. "We only came across a couple of smattering of houses that passed for villages out there in the middle of nowhere, but the people were so far removed from civilization that they didn't speak the common tongue. So not only was the trip fruitless, we ran into small packs of darkspawn several times."

"The last time… on the way back… my mana was spent and I was barely holding back a genlock, and Old Barlin was across the field with a hurlock. Father left the hurlock he was battling to come to my aid. He ran the genlock through, but the hurlock followed and slashed the back of his arm with its claw."

Anders could tell that the story was already starting to get to her. He slid closer and put his arm around her in a gesture of comfort. Misery noticed but returned her gaze to the fire without showing any reaction.

Bethany gave a slight smile in appreciation as she continued her story. "We finished off the darkspawn, then afterwards I cleaned out the wound and bandaged his arm, and he healed himself… but I guess it wasn't enough. Father didn't complain, but it was obvious he never felt right after that. Healing magic… potions… salves… antidotes… didn't do anything but delay the inevitable. He knew he was dying, but he fought it for as long as he could. He'd grown pale and sickly like Ser Wesley, though Father managed to hang on for about a month after being wounded."

Anders sighed loudly. "Even if your father had known the Grey Wardens might be able to help him, he'd have been hard pressed to actually find them in Ferelden back then."

Bethany and Misery both nodded solemnly in acknowledgment of that. The younger Hawke took and released a deep breath before starting the last part.

"One morning he called all of us children into the room where he and Mother were… he told us he could feel something changing inside… said that he needed to end it before it was too late. We stayed with him all day, and after nightfall he said his goodbyes and left the house. He… Mother told us later he had already arranged it with Old Barlin to kill him and cremate his body immediately to ensure whatever had corrupted his body didn't spread."

"Remember him in life," Aveline said softly, staring across the fire at Misery. She now understood why Hawke had insisted on her not actually seeing Wesley's death. Misery met and held the warrior's gaze for a moment before nodding once and averting her eyes back to the fire.

"Yes…" answered Bethany for her sister. "He made sure our last memories of him were him standing at the door smiling and telling us he loved us. And… th-then he was g-gone…" Her breath caught after the last of her words came out in an unsteady quaver.

The group let the silence envelope them. Neither of the Hawkes had anything else to add, and the others were conscientious enough to give them some emotional space. After a few minutes, Misery tapped Revas on the side before standing up and walking a short distance away.

Varric cleared his throat. "Hey, Aveline? How about we walk the perimeter before turning in, just to make sure we're alone out here?" The redhead nodded and stood up to go with him.

"I doubt my sister will sleep tonight," Bethany said, "but I don't want her to keep watch alone. You two decide on a watch order and just let us know when you get back." Varric and Aveline both nodded in agreement as they left Anders and Bethany alone.

-==0==-

"Are you okay?" Anders asked gently.

Bethany leaned further into him, causing him to turn a bit so she could rest her head on his chest. "Yeah… you know, that was the first time I was ever able to tell that story and be completely truthful, without having to alter or gloss over the details." She smiled. "It feels good having friends I can just be myself with. That I don't have to lie to or hide things from."

"I can imagine how difficult it would have been growing up, forced to keep so much of yourself a secret, for your own safety and for others'. I wonder if your brother and sister understood how lucky they were to not have that burden."

"Lucky? No… they sacrificed so much for me. Miri especially. I was four when my talents first manifested, I barely even remember it. But I know that was basically the end of her childhood."

"Who is Miri?"

Bethany stiffened, sitting up straight and covering her mouth with her hand as her eyes opened wide. "Wh-what? Where did you hear that name?"

"You just said it a second ago."

"Shit…" she swore before silently scolding herself. She glanced up at Anders' confused expression, her expression hardening. "Do not _ever_ say that name in the presence of my sister, _please_."

"Uhhh… okay." A few seconds later it clicked. "That… that's her real name?"

"Yes. At least, that's my nickname for her anyway. It's a shortened version of her real name. She didn't start calling herself 'Misery' until right after we arrived in Kirkwall."

"What's her actual name?"

Bethany shook her head vehemently. "Sorry, you won't hear it from me. It's hers to tell if she chooses to. But I'm dead serious about not repeating what I let slip. Father and I are the only two people in this world that ever called her by that nickname, so she'll know immediately where you learned it. And you've already seen what her temper can be like. Do _not _make me face that."

Anders would have laughed at the seriousness of Bethany's expression over something as silly as a name, except that he _did _know what her sister's temper was like. Instead he sighed gently and nodded. "You have my word."

After the female relaxed and settled back in his arms, he asked a question that was beginning to burn in his mind. "Do… do you need me to rescue you from her?"

"What do you mean?"

The former Grey Warden felt his irritation beginning to rise again as he thought back to earlier in the evening. "I know what she was doing when you interrupted her during that argument before dinner. Does she use those templar skills to keep you prisoner under the guise of _protecting _you?"

Bethany immediately pushed away from him, staring at her fellow mage in shock. "Are you insane?" she asked incredulously. "My sister is no templar! And she is most certainly _not _keeping me held prisoner!"

"You don't have to lie to me, Bethany. I've been on the receiving end of what she was casting far too many times not to recognize it."

"She isn't lying to you," an approaching voice stated firmly. Bethany gasped at the sight of her sister standing a few feet away with Revas at her side, while Anders scowled in defiance.

"H-how much did you hear?" Bethany asked weakly.

"I heard enough. I came back to get my bow and to tell everyone that Revas and I were taking first watch." She leveled a glare at Anders while calming her fury at him. She didn't want to make Bethany regret leaping to her defense by overreacting anyway. Finally she began to explain.

"If you haven't figured it out by now, our father could be quite unorthodox when it came to gaining an edge in the fight to stay free. The reality is that not all apostates are good people simply looking for freedom. Some are pissed off at the world for their lot in life and don't care who they crush underfoot trying to take back what they think they deserve. Some are all too willing to seek out other apostates and bend them to their will to further their own agenda."

Misery decided to give a specific example, even though normally she wouldn't have even considered revealing something like this. "When Bethany was twelve, Father had to deal with this apostate that had the protection of a noble patron and tried to extort him into giving Bethany to him in marriage with the threat of having the templars crash down on our family if he refused."

"Wh-what?" Bethany gasped in shock. "I-I never heard about that!"

Misery waved her hand. "There are _many _things you never heard about. Anyway, the fight was bloody and Father was hurt badly. A friend of his got him out of there alive, but they weren't able to take down the other mage. I went to his estate late that night… snuck up on and killed two guards, then climbed the wall to the window of the mage's room on the third floor. Fucking pedophile had a girl in bed riding him that couldn't have been more than nine or ten. I lost count of how many times I stabbed the bastard."

Shaking her head, Misery continued, "Father was _furious_ the next morning when I told him what I'd done. I'd never seen him that angry before, at least not at me. I didn't realize it until much later, but he was scared. He knew what that mage had done to him, and the thought of what he'd have done to me considering both that I was Malcolm Hawke's 16-year old daughter and that he obviously had a thing for young girls… I think it terrified him."

"So he taught you to defend yourself against magic wielders?"

"He didn't, but he had a templar friend, Ser Maron, who taught me a couple of useful skills. Though probably the most important thing he taught me was to not let myself become a lyrium addict in the process."

"I admit… I find it rather strange that a mage would willingly have their child trained in anti-magic. And that an apostate and a templar would be friends."

Misery smirked. "It was a templar that helped Father originally escape from the Circle. Not all templars are rabid Andrastians bent on abusing mages. And not all templars are templars by choice. Some are handed off to the Chantry as children simply because their parents don't want to deal with them or can't afford to. And some are sympathetic and willing to overlook an apostate that's a good citizen, has the sense not to draw attention to what they are, and are just trying to make a life for their family."

"Your father was a lucky man. I can't say I've met anyone in the Templar Order like that," Anders admitted.

"Anyway, the two templar skills I have are purely defensive, so don't think I'm going around smiting anyone. And no, I've never once used them on Bethany, not even in practicing or sparring. Though _silence _is rather tempting every now and then."

Bethany bowed her head slightly but didn't reply right away. Misery picked up her bow and began to walk away when the younger sister asked, "What happened to the girl?"

The rogue stopped in her tracks and closed her eyes. "I… was really hoping you wouldn't ask that…" she said softly before opening her eyes and turning back around to face the pair.

Bethany gulped at the expression of sorrow on her sister's face. "You didn't… please tell me you didn't…"

"Sh-she… I tried to get her to be quiet, to explain I wasn't there to hurt her. But she kept trying to yell for help. She was livid that I killed her… lover. I didn't understand how a little girl like that could even think in those terms, b-but… I think I knew there was something wrong with her for her to be so possessive of that creep, something unnatural."

"Blood magic…" Anders whispered before trailing off into silence.

Misery nodded. "That… that's what Father thought too when I told him, that the mage had been using blood magic to control her and had completely screwed up her mind."

The rogue took a deep breath before forcing herself to look her sister in the eyes. "I… I am sorry… the girl didn't leave me with any other choice. I didn't want to… but I couldn't let her cause me to be caught. I… told her I was sorry… right before I took her life."

"I'm so sorry you had to go through that," Bethany whispered hoarsely. "On my account… again…" she added even quieter.

Misery sighed. "I guess there's no point in not telling the whole truth now… that little girl was the main reason Father had me learn the templar skills. He thought if I'd been able to cleanse the area of magic I might have been able to save her. He wanted me better prepared for the future."

Anders felt a twinge of heartache at the realization that he'd never had anyone devoted to him the way the Hawke family had obviously been to each other, the way Misery and Bethany still were. He also realized that prickly personality aside, he was seeing the older Hawke sister in an entirely new light than he had earlier.

"Misery? I… I apologize for saying what I did to Bethany, for suggesting you were disingenuous about protecting her. I think I understand now just how wrong that was."

The rogue smiled very slightly, nodding in acceptance of the apology. "Get some rest guys. I want to get an early start tomorrow so we can hopefully reach the Dalish camp by mid-day."

With that, she quickly moved away into the darkness. She'd quelled her emotions for almost as long as she could, and what she wanted now was a healthy dose of privacy where she could turn them loose. And first watch was as perfect an excuse for that as any.

.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I got caught in kind of an in-between chapter. The content I'd planned I felt was too short for a complete chapter, but then going all the way up to the Dalish camp was going to be too long. So I took the opportunity to fill in more of the past. And then the length ran away from me anyway!<strong>

**I couldn't find anything 'official' about how Malcolm Hawke died, just what Bethany says in-game about him having died in the Blight. So the backstory I gave him is completely my invention. I "borrowed" a couple of bit characters from DA:O Lothering (Barlin and Ser Maron) just for a little bit of familiarity.**

**If it didn't make sense to anyone, in my DA:O story I had Alistair become the Warden Commander instead of the typical PC warden.**

**Yeah, I know... in-game rogues can't get templar skills, only warriors can. But I like how Misery having just a couple of those skills fits the story context here.**


	10. Meeting the Dalish

The mood was largely upbeat as the party broke camp. With a good push and no unforeseen delays they'd likely reach the Dalish camp by mid-day. Even Misery, who was otherwise reticent from fatigue and still feeling the effects of the previous evening's strong emotions, managed a smile at the knowledge that the end was in sight.

Shortly after breaking camp, the mountain trail led the party into a dark forest that almost immediately changed the mood of the morning. The broad-leafed trees formed a thick canopy overhead. What little light filtered through created an occasional silhouette along the forest floor, only adding to the eerie atmosphere.

The wildlife was disconcertingly quiet for most of the morning, making everyone wary. The absence of natural sounds drew even more attention to the crunching of dried leaves under their boots. Every little noise seemed amplified, resulting in a palpable level of tension among the companions.

Not only was it obvious that anyone out here would hear them coming from a mile away, but the trees themselves aggressively hugged the narrow, winding path the group traversed single file. Anders wondered out loud at one point if the trees were going to attack them, his tone belying the nervousness his sarcasm sought to hide. Even the nearly unflappable Aveline had questioned if they were actually being herded by the forest down a specific path.

It was nearly mid-day when the adventurers finally emerged from the darkness of the densely packed forest. At least they thought it was mid-day by the length of time they'd been on the trail. The sky was too overcast to tell for sure. Sunlight broke through the cloud cover, but the sun itself wasn't visible.

Misery shuddered, in part from the relief she felt from escaping the forest and in part from the warmth of the sunlight raising goose bumps on her chilled skin. She glanced back at her companions, noting their equally relieved expressions.

Before the tension completely drained, however, Misery spied a trio of elves a short distance ahead. Judging by the bows they had armed and at the ready, she assumed they were Dalish scouts or hunters.

"Hold up," Misery quietly ordered.

She slowly turned to face her companions, motioning towards the elves. "Looks like we have found them. Remember, no aggressive moves, and do not even think of reaching for your weapons unless we're actually attacked. Assume for every one Dalish you see there are ten more you can't see."

"Right," Aveline agreed, "if they decide to attack, it likely won't matter if our weapons are already drawn or not."

Nodding, Misery resumed walking. As they got closer to the elves, she held her hands up, palms exposed in a show of non-aggression. Despite the gesture, the elves maintained hostile expressions and threatening postures while blocking the path.

"You shems are lost," the male elf in the middle of the three stated forcefully. "I suggest you turn around and go back the way you came."

"Shems?" Bethany asked in confusion.

"Racial slur for humans," Aveline whispered. She was careful to keep her tone neutral.

Misery shook her head slowly at the elf. "I would love to. However, I was tasked by a Witch of the Wilds in Ferelden to deliver an amulet to Keeper Marethari."

"Asha'bellanar?" the elf to the left asked in obvious astonishment.

The elf in the middle waved off the younger man. His eyes narrowed at the female shemlen in front of him. "That way," he grumbled, motioning towards a path further ahead. "Make your business quick and then go."

He then stepped to the side to allow them to pass, his companions following suit.

Misery merely nodded before leading the others on. Even if she wasn't going out of her way not to provoke them, she still wouldn't argue. After having a brief, fitful nap the previous evening as the only sleep she'd gotten in the last day and a half, coupled with the physical demands of the journey and the stress that had been involved, she was near exhausted both mentally and physically. Pride be damned, she just wanted to get delivering the stupid amulet over with.

-==0==-

The party trudged on for another quarter mile down a path that hugged a natural rock wall to their left before reaching a gap in the wall roughly twenty feet across. Standing on either side of the gap were fifteen foot tall wooden posts. Identical red and white banners hung from the posts, flowing in the wind. The banners bore a symbol in the shape of a horned animal head.

"Halla," Bethany said softly while pointing to a banner.

"What's that?" Anders asked.

"Halla," she repeated. "I remember Sister Leliana telling a story of them back at the Lothering Chantry. Halla are sacred beasts to the Dalish."

"I wouldn't put too much stock in anything the sister told you," Misery suggested. "She wasn't the most… mentally stable."

Anders chuckled. "An archdemon shy of a Blight?"

"Pretty much."

Bethany pouted. "You're awful! Sister Leliana was so sweet! I miss her stories."

Anders scratched at his beard in thought while the group walked through the opening. He'd briefly met a Leliana with the Hero of Ferelden during his time in Amaranthine, but from the way Misery was describing her he couldn't imagine it was the same person. He shook the thought away, however, as his attention was grabbed by the sight of more angry elves.

"What are you shemlen doing here?" a male elf demanded of the approaching _visitors_. He held a pair of daggers in his hands, one of which was now pointed at the throat of the raven haired female leading them. The woman next to him had an arrow notched and ready to set into flight.

_Andraste's ass! _Anders thought. _These guys make Misery look like the grand champion of a congeniality competition._

Revas growled low at the man who was threatening his master.

"Revas, sit," Misery said calmly while not breaking eye contact with the elf. As the mabari complied, the male elf raised an eyebrow curiously at Misery regarding the word she'd used to address the dog.

"I was sent to deliver an amulet to Keeper Marethari," Misery explained. "It's from a woman your people call Asha'bellanar."

The elven man and woman exchanged uneasy glances. "I… I would have thought an elf would be bringing it," the woman said.

The man nodded. "This must be the one the keeper spoke of though." He turned back to Misery. "The keeper has been expecting your arrival." After a moment's pause he added, "For some time now." He then whistled loudly, and almost immediately a dozen armed elves appeared.

"Escort the shems to the keeper," he commanded to the squad of warriors, never taking his eyes off of the mostly human group. His eyes narrowed further as he addressed the female shem at the front.

"I warn you to be respectful. We don't want your kind here, and if you cause any trouble you'll be dead before you know it. You have no idea how many arrows will be trained on you at all times."

Once again, Misery merely nodded wearily in acknowledgement and moved on. She believed them completely and had no intention of calling their bluff. However, she thought it was rather ironic that the elf was warning _them_ about being respectful while throwing racial slurs around.

-==0==-

Misery's eyes were in near constant motion as the group entered the main part of the Dalish camp. Their arrival was clearly unwelcome, as _everyone_ had stopped what they were doing to stare suspiciously at them.

The camp itself was enclosed by the mountain on either side. The front part they'd entered through was seemingly the only way back down, since looking out on the horizon it appeared that the backside of the camp led even further up Sundermount.

Behind a grouping of tents on one side of the camp, a series of large wooden carriages lined the wall. Large red sails gave the carriages the appearance of land ships. Misery could see harnesses at the front and wondered if they were pulled by these halla the Dalish seemed especially fond of, considering the proliferation of those same red and white banners throughout the camp.

As they got deeper into the Dalish camp, Misery glanced over questioningly at Aveline and the redhead nodded. It wasn't lost on either of them that the elves were slowly surrounding them. It wasn't an outright hostile reaction on the part of the Dalish, but it was obvious that they didn't trust the visitors and would quickly kill them if provoked.

"Steady, everyone," Aveline said quietly, sensing the tension growing even further. "Don't start getting skittish now."

As they drew near the center of the camp, another large group of warriors formed ranks in front of a diminutive old woman. An elven warrior drew his sword and stepped forward. "Surrender your weapons," he said sternly.

"Pardon me?" Misery asked in surprise.

"Your _weapons_. You will surrender them before meeting with the keeper."

Misery glanced around. _Not like it will matter if we have our weapons or not. If they want to kill us we're already done for. _After a couple of moments she nodded. "We will comply."

Without breaking eye contact with the warrior in front of her, she said to her companions, "Disarm and lay your weapons down at your feet. Oh, and slowly, if you will. Please do not give them an excuse to attack."

After the party disarmed, the ranks in front of them shifted, opening a path to what could only be the keeper. The woman was backed by a dozen more armed elves forming a semi-circle around her. As Misery and company stepped forward, the ranks closed behind them. They were fully surrounded.

Misery stopped several feet in front of the old woman that was eyeing them carefully but not with open hostility like the others. The woman had medium length gray hair pulled back in a bun, and the robes she wore along with the staff on her back made it apparent she was a mage.

The short, lithe female looked almost frail in appearance, though Misery and company knew better than to take any mage lightly. The woman bore the individually unique facial markings that seemed typical of the Dalish from what they'd seen so far, however, age and a lifetime outdoors had faded hers to the point where they blended almost naturally with her slightly darkened skin.

"Keeper Marethari?" Misery asked.

For the briefest of moments the woman's eyes narrowed in suspicion at how the child knew her name before she forced her expression to relax. It always made her nervous when shemlens found their camp. She never trusted their motives, and had long observed that they would usually act respectful as long as they felt threatened, but their actions and attitudes were anything but respectful when they thought they were no longer being watched.

It wasn't often that they had uninvited visitors like this, but being stuck in one place had resulted in a gradual increase in frequency. The group in front of her marked the fifth time they'd been imposed upon by outsiders in the year they'd been on Sundermount, whereas back in Ferelden they could go years without encountering anyone but other Dalish clans or the Chasind that they coexisted relatively peacefully with.

"I am," Marethari replied simply, continuing to gaze upon the girl that appeared to be the leader.

Marethari had always embraced the matronly role of her position as keeper, overseeing the welfare of the clan, and there wasn't a time when she didn't worry for the safety of every individual member. The presence of outsiders that could threaten their safety even more than what they already faced on the mountain only made that worry grow.

Misery sighed gently, relief beginning to wash over her haggard countenance. "Back in Ferelden I was given an amulet by a Witch of the Wilds to bring to you," she explained while taking her equipment pack from her back and beginning to rummage through it. After several moments, her eyes began to grow wide and her movements became more frantic.

"What's wrong, Hawke?" Varric asked.

"Bethany, did I give you the amulet to carry?" Misery asked, the feeling of dread seeping in.

The younger sister stared back at her in alarm. "N-no, you didn't. It's not in your pack?"

"No!" Misery nearly shouted, further increasing the tensions of the armed elves around them. Marethari took a small step back.

The female rogue dumped the contents of her pack on the ground and fell to her hands and knees. There wasn't much in there to begin with, but the amulet was nowhere to be seen.

"This can't be happening!" she choked out, fighting the urge to have a complete meltdown.

"Wait, Hawke, slow down," Varric began. "You had the amulet at camp yesterday, right?"

"I… I don't know…"

Varric gestured for her to relax. "You must have. If Sunshine is right about it being a medium or whatever that Flemeth uses to get to you, wouldn't it stand to reason that it had to be close by when you had that dream yesterday? Let's figure out where you last saw it and go from there."

"It doesn't matter, Varric! If I lost it along the trail…" She trailed off, unwilling to voice the implications.

The elder keeper studied the distraught expression on the girl's face, intently looking for any sign of deception. Not finding any, she moved on to the other members of the group. Finally she sighed and closed her eyes while holding her hand out in front of her.

Marethari's hand began to glow softly. After several seconds, the glow faded and she lowered her hand and opened her eyes.

"I believe you are wearing it around your neck," she said while tapping her own chest for effect. She allowed herself to relax slightly. She now knew these shemlens were here honestly. She could _feel _Asha'bellanar when her magic had touched the amulet.

Misery's eyes snapped wide open as her hand clutched at her chest. She couldn't remember having put it on, but she could now feel it against her skin as she pressed down harder than necessary. The rogue's hands went to her neck, finding the leather cord she'd replaced the original chain with after breaking it in anger. With a quick tug the amulet came out into the open, and then was removed.

Despite the tension of the situation they were in, Anders snorted and started struggling to stifle the giggles. That earned him a kick in the shin from Bethany, which in turn caused Aveline and Varric to start chuckling as well. Misery was so relieved that the thought of admonishing them didn't even cross her mind. Still on her knees, she simply held the amulet extended out in front of her.

Marethari stepped forward and accepted the amulet, then stepped back while beginning to appraise it. "Tell me how this burden fell to you, Child."

"Flemeth… the one you call Asha'bellanar… she rescued my family and my friend from darkspawn while we were trying to flee Ferelden from the Blight. She helped us escape in exchange for bringing the amulet to you."

Marethari nodded. "We left Ferelden because of the Blight as well. It has been a long, difficult journey, has it not?"

Bethany put her hand on her sister's shoulder. "Keeper, when we arrived in Kirkwall we were forced into servitude to pay our way into the city. Only recently were we set free and able to fulfill our promise."

"There was no accusation in my question, Child. I honor you for coming to me."

The mage nodded apologetically. "The ones we spoke with earlier suggested that you were expecting us. Do you know Flemeth too? Do you know what this amulet is that allows her to haunt my sister's dreams?"

"Oh, I am tied to her much like you are, by a debt that must be repaid. The amulet… that is a promise, Child, made by one whose word still carries weight. And therefore it has terrible power."

There was an undercurrent of foreboding in the old keeper's tone as she added, "And I'm afraid your part in this is not yet over."

"Wh-what do you mean?" Misery asked softly. Her fear was already beginning to catch its second wind. She had no idea what the keeper's cryptic remarks about a promise, terrible power, and her not being done with this yet meant.

Marethari handed the amulet back. "You must take the amulet to an altar atop the mountain," she began, gesturing behind her. "There it is to be given a Dalish rite for the departed."

Misery looked up at her in bewilderment. "I don't understand. Why us? What would _we_ know about performing a Dalish ritual?"

"I will send my First with you. She will see to it the ritual is done. Return the amulet to me afterwards and your debt will be repaid." Marethari intentionally left out that she was making them do it because she was unwilling to risk the lives of even more of her people if she could help it. She'd already lost too many hunters to the dark things up there.

"You will send your first what?" Misery asked, still confused.

"My apprentice," the elder woman clarified. "And when it is complete, I must ask that you take Merrill with you when you go."

Misery stood up slowly, raising an eyebrow quizzically. "Keeper… I admit I don't know much about your people, but I do know that the Dalish have very little regard for humans. And that's not just from being surrounded by people ready to kill us if we breathe wrong. So… why would you trust one of your clan to my care?"

Bethany coughed nervously. "We don't mind of course," she added quickly, "I-I think what my sister means is that we don't understand exactly what it is you intend for us to do. Are we to take Merrill somewhere in particular? Will you need us to bring her back? Is there anything we should know about her?"

Marethari stood up even straighter. "In time, Merrill would have taken my place as keeper. But she has chosen a new path of her own. It is her wish, and I must grant it, as much as it grieves me to do so. Please guide her safely from here to Kirkwall. I believe she intends to stay among the city elves, so I would be thankful if you help her with that."

Misery nodded solemnly. _Easy enough, Uncle Gamlen lives close to the alienage anyway._ "It will be done. Where can we find Merrill?"

"Probably near the start of the path leading up the mountain," she answered, gesturing again behind her. "Dareth shiral."

Assuming that bit of elven was akin to saying 'goodbye' by the way Marethari turned away, Misery knelt back down and began repacking the stuff she'd previously dumped on the ground.

Before the keeper got too far, Varric spoke up. "Keeper?" When she glanced back, he continued, "How far up the mountain is that altar? What I mean is… how long do you think it will take for us to get to it from here?"

"Fenarel!" Marethari called out. A young male immediately jogged up to her. "How long does it take to reach the ancient altar?"

"A Dalish hunter could make it in three hours if no beasts were encountered along the way," Fenarel replied. Smirking, he added, "The shems should probably count on twice that." _If they make it at all_, he added smugly to himself.

"What are you thinking, Varric?" Aveline asked.

Varric shook his head slightly. "Hawke, I think we should wait until tomorrow and start the trek at daybreak."

"Absolutely not!" Misery exclaimed. "We go now."

Aveline looked over her friend and sighed. "Come on, Misery, you're exhausted and not thinking clearly as it is. And it doesn't sound like there's any way we'll make it there and back before nightfall."

Varric nodded his head vehemently. "And it'll be even colder up there than it has been along the way. You guys will be miserable up there after dark. Unless Blondie has something on under that robe besides his unmentionables, I'm the only one with anything warm on."

"Right…" Anders replied dryly, "With all that chest hair you might as well be wearing a rug."

"The duster buttons closed, you know," Varric said somewhat defensively. "Point remains."

Misery's shoulders slumped. "I-I can't… won't sleep anyway, even if we wait. I _have _to get this amulet out of my possession." She didn't realize it, but her eyes were practically pleading with her companions. "I will take it up there myself if I have to."

Marethari, still looking on, frowned slightly at the girl. She knew Asha'bellanar, and could guess at the torment this girl must have undergone. Even if she was willing to risk the girl and her companions so not to risk any more of her own people than necessary, the keeper still felt a small amount of sympathy. And she didn't want to see the girl fail. That would leave her having to send hunters to take the amulet to the altar anyway, since the rite was one of her own obligations to Asha'bellanar. She sighed.

"Give me the amulet," Marethari said. "I will keep it safe until dawn. That should satisfy Asha'bellanar."

When the rogue still appeared uncertain and didn't move, Bethany gently took the amulet from her hand and relayed it to the older woman. "Keeper," she began while handing off the amulet, "we don't wish to offend your people or impose on your hospitality. After we talk to Merrill, where can we set out our bedrolls and to make a small fire later in the day to cook over?"

Marethari smiled gently. "Thank you for asking, Child." She gestured to a corner of the camp near where the mountain trail they needed to take started. "You can make your camp over there. And you may talk to Master Ilen if you have need of supplies. For your own good I will remind you to continue being as respectful as you have been so far. Your need to be here will not make most of my people any more tolerant of your presence."

With that she nodded once and walked off. The crowd around them began to disperse, but it was made obvious that the unwelcome visitors were still being watched closely, regardless of the keeper having granted them permission to be here.

Misery gestured for the others to gather their weapons. "Let's go drop our gear where we're camping, and then I want to find Merrill."

-==0==-

Rounding a curve a short distance up from the trailhead, Misery caught sight of a female elf sitting up against a large rock, a soft glow emitted in front of her. She could tell this girl was fairly young, and guessed she was probably around Bethany's age.

At the sound of people approaching, the girl stopped what she was doing and quickly stood up to face them.

"Aneth ara!" she exclaimed in surprise. "Y-you startled me. You must be the one the keeper told me about."

Misery made a mental note of the staff leaning up against the rock. _A mage, like the keeper. _ "That's us. Four shems, a mabari, and a Varric," she answered with a wry grin.

"And a Varric? I'm pretty sure I should feel insulted here," the dwarf groused playfully.

"She just means that you're a breed apart," Bethany quipped.

"Might as well make him an honorary shemlen like us," Anders added dryly. "Albeit a shorter one."

Varric tried to appear indignant, but even he could see the humor in it and began laughing with the others.

Merrill simply stared at the group in bewilderment.

The raven haired rogue gave a slight smile. "I'm Misery Hawke. You are Merrill? I was told you would help us with a Dalish rite."

Merrill blinked in surprise. "Misery? Oh, that's a… nice... name." Anders snorted in the background.

Misery couldn't help the smirk that formed. _Yep, seeing people's reactions never gets old._

"I'm Merrill, though I… guess you already knew that," the elven maiden continued. "Oh! I didn't ask all of you your names! Unless… it's not rude to ask humans their names, is it? Or dwarves for that matter… Oh dear, I'm rambling… sorry…"

Varric shook his head, chuckling. "Relax, Daisy, no one here is going to bite you. Not even the dog… probably."

"Daisy?" Merrill asked in confusion.

"Don't mind Varric," Aveline explained, "he comes up with random nicknames for almost everyone."

"Random?" Varric asked in mock hurt. "Deep philosophical thought goes into them! What is this anyway, 'Pick on the Dwarf Day'?"

Aveline ignored him."I am Aveline. A pleasure to meet you, Merrill."

While the others introduced themselves, Revas began to sniff around the elf. The imposing mabari made Merrill even more nervous. He licked her hand, causing her to wonder if he was sampling how good she tasted.

"Ummm… Varric, was it? You were serious about the dog not biting, right?" she asked.

Misery grinned. "Revas, leave the poor girl alone." Meeting the elf's nervous gaze, she continued, "Don't mind him. Revas can be rather shameless in his attempts to get attention, but he's very friendly when we are not under attack. Assuming you don't plan to attack me at some point, he'll never hurt you."

Merrill looked at the girl curiously. "Oh, 'Revas'… that's an interesting name. I mean, it's interesting if you know what 'Revas' means in the elven language, of course. I suppose it wouldn't be so interesting otherwise. There I go rambling again… stop talking, Merrill."

"I do, actually," Misery answered, overlooking the girl's obvious nervousness. "I know it means _freedom_ in the elven language, that's why I named him that. Freedom was something my father fought his whole life for, and he's the one who bought Revas for me."

Anders closed his eyes briefly at the explanation. _She understands more than I ever expected she would_.

Merrill tentatively patted the mabari on top of the head. "I have never actually met a dog before," she admitted.

"Wow, Hawke, how come you never told _me_ that one before?" Varric asked. "You know I love a good story."

"You never asked about his name." Returning her attention to the elf, she explained more about her dog.

"Mabaris are an exceptionally intelligent breed, and Revas in particular comes from a lineage of champions. He can understand almost anything you say, and if you're around him long enough you'll probably start to understand him too."

Varric laughed while motioning to the dog. "Look at him! He's got his chest puffed out in pride!" The others laughed, while Revas refused to acknowledge them.

"Anyway," Bethany said, changing the subject, "we've decided it's too late to head up to the altar today, so we're camping out just back around the bend there. Why don't you join us?"

"J-join you?"

"I mean, if you want to of course. I know that your people are… uncomfortable with humans, but not all of us are bad. I just thought that since it sounds like you'll be with us for awhile both for the rite and then on the journey back to Kirkwall, you might want to start getting to know us."

Merrill frowned slightly. "I… I am not sure that's a good idea."

"Not a good idea to get to know us?" Varric asked.

The elf shook her head. "No, I am sorry, I did not mean it like that… that's not it. I am probably more curious about sh- humans… than most of my clan."

"Does it have something to do with why you are leaving the clan?" Bethany asked, noting the sadness in the girl's tone.

"Yes. Let's leave it at that for now, alright?"

Misery nodded. "Well, I am going to go see what Master Ilen has for sale or trade. You _are _welcome to join us, Merrill, but that's up to you. Either way, please be ready to leave at daybreak." She turned to walk away.

"Wait," Merrill requested. When Misery looked back, she could see the look of consternation on the elf's face, as if she was fighting an internal battle over what to do.

"I… will at least go with you to see Master Ilen," she finally said. "To make sure he gives you fair prices."

"Ahhh, reminds me of my brother," Varric remarked before laughing.

-==0==-

After deciding that it was probably for the best not to have the entire party descend on Master Ilen at the same time, Misery and Varric went with Merrill to see the Dalish craftsman while the others quietly set up camp.

Misery sold off the junk and equipment they'd salvaged from their encounters on the journey. Ilen didn't give her much for them, but she hadn't expected him to. Most of the gear was low quality anyway, and as Varric pointed out, Master Ilen probably only bought the stuff for the purpose of stripping or melting down for the raw materials. Still, coin was coin.

Perusing the master craftsman's wares, Misery's attention was drawn to a positively wicked looking dagger. It was double-bladed, with the hilt in the middle between the curved blades.

"How much for the dagger?" Varric asked, assuming Misery was at least considering buying it.

Ilen shrugged. "Two sovereigns." Inwardly he thought snidely about how typical it was of a shem to desire something shiny and impractical. The few dwarves he'd ever met were hardly any better. He'd made the stupid thing at the behest of one of the Dalish hunters, who carried it for barely a week before selling it back to him. He'd been stuck with it ever since.

Misery shook her head. "Nah, it's an interesting design, but not very useful. Gesturing to the blades and bow she already had on her person, she asked, "How would I even carry it?"

"Hmmm… I suppose the small of your back would be the only logical place, but it'd be hard to draw with your bow hanging down over it."

"Exactly. And it's not like I could put it in a sheath and attach it to my leg like a more traditional dagger."

Ilen raised an eyebrow curiously at the female proving him wrong about desiring the impractical weapon. However, he said nothing in response.

Misery picked up a far more mundane looking dagger from the table and inspected it. The visual appearance may have been lackluster, but the quality of the construction wasn't. "Varric, you should buy this one for yourself."

The dwarf looked up at her curiously. "What do I need a dagger for?"

"As an alternative in combat."

"You expect me to cheat on Bianca? Are you crazy?"

Misery sighed. "What are you going to do when Bianca jams up or outright breaks in the middle of a battle? You've got nothing to fall back on."

Varric's mouth dropped open in shock. "Bianca, close your ears, darling, you don't have to listen to her."

Merrill's eyes darted back and forth between the two. She could tell they were bickering, she just had no idea what they were bickering about.

"Varric," Misery said with more than a hint of exasperation, "what would you do if… to no fault of her own… Bianca was unable to fire in a battle?"

The dwarf leaned in close, like he was revealing a secret and didn't want anyone else to hear. "She's got a little surprise. A retractable bayonet," he whispered.

The female rogue rolled her eyes at the impracticality of relying on a bayonet on the end of a crossbow as anything more than a last ditch option, but decided to let the issue drop for now. She didn't have the energy to push back any further.

Looking around some more, Misery noticed a hooded cloak. It was dark green, as most of the elven wear was, with dark gray line patterns stitched into the outer material. She didn't know if there was any significance to the patterns, though they reminded her of the facial tattoos common to the Dalish. For the average elf the cloak was probably ankle to calf length. For her it'd be knee length.

Misery removed the cloak from the peg it hung from. She marveled at how lightweight it felt given its appearance. The interior was lined with velvet and had a couple of deep, strategically placed pockets.

The rogue knew Varric had a point earlier when he mentioned them not being adequately dressed for the mountains in late autumn. Not that she was going to admit that at the time. She'd been cold all morning traveling through the highly shaded forest, as well as the last couple of nights whenever she got away from the campfire for more than a few minutes.

"Master Ilen, how much for the cloak?" she finally asked.

The older man glared at her slightly. "Ten sovereigns."

Misery winced. That was way out of her price range. "If you don't mind me asking, why so much?"

Ilen's glare hardened further. "Dalish crafting is second to none," he answered smugly.

"Master Ilen?" Merrill asked, "How much would it be for _me _to buy it?"

He looked over at the young female curiously, not understanding why she was involving herself in this. "Five," he finally answered with a bit of reluctance. The two elves understood that he wasn't speaking literally. Most Dalish had little access to or use for the common coin, and transactions typically involved bartering one's service or expertise for a length of time equal to the value of the goods.

Merrill nodded and turned to Misery. "If you wish to buy it for five sovereigns I will make the purchase for you. I-I mean, you would have to give me the money to do so."

Ilen scowled. "I craft for the People, Merrill. Not for arrogant shems who think they can come take advantage of us!"

Misery fought the urge to roll her eyes. _Of course he's trying to gouge me. At least he's honest about it._ "Well, even five is too rich for me. I simply don't have that much coin to spend."

Varric nodded solemnly in agreement, not realizing that his companion interpreted the motion as him intimating that he had a say in what she spent her coin on, and as a result angered her. Before she could round on the dwarf, however, Ilen got her attention again by scoffing.

"I am not going any lower on an enchanted cloak, so you are out of luck then. Anything else?"

"Enchanted?" Misery asked curiously.

"You shems…" Ilen grumbled, "would not know quality if you were beaten over the head with it." Any of the Dalish would have known immediately that the cloak was enchanted.

When Misery simply continued staring in expectation of an explanation, Ilen sighed in exasperation. He took the cloak and held it stretched out off to his side. "You, Dwarf," he barked. "Take a shot at it with that contraption of yours."

Varric looked back and forth at Ilen and Misery before shrugging and pulling Bianca off his back. A quartet of elven warriors standing close by tensed up and the sounds of blades being unsheathed were immediate. Having heard the master craftsman, however, they stood at the ready while waiting to see what the dwarf would do.

"Ummm…. Varric? Please don't miss," Misery said in mild worry.

"Nothing to it, Hawke." From ten feet away he pulled the trigger, feeling Bianca kick as she turned loose a bolt.

To the shock of the two rogues, the bolt didn't rip right through the cloth. Instead, it glanced off harmlessly.

"Unbelievable…" Misery whispered in awe, reaching over and running her hand over the fabric. She didn't understand how it could be so soft and flexible yet repel a sharp projectile like that.

"Maybe to shems," Ilen replied, his own smugness shining through. "But a rock armor enchantment is child's play to a Dalish craftsman." He knew he was exaggerating, but the shem didn't know that.

Misery's mind was churning through scenarios in which she could acquire this cloak. She had to have it. Stealing was out, that much was obvious. And unfortunately, buying it appeared to be out as well.

Merrill spoke up. "Master Ilen, would you be open to bartering for it? Is there any task she can do for you in exchange for the cloak?"

"What could she possibly do that I would have any use for?"

Merrill thought for a moment. "I know you want ironbark and that our hunters haven't been able to reach the mountain's summit in some time. If she brings back a supply of ironbark, would that be a fair trade?"

Varric and Misery exchanged concerned glances at the mention of the Dalish not being able to get to the summit. That was new information they'd be asking Merrill and/or Marethari about very soon.

Ilen scoffed at the notion. "And you think she will succeed where our hunters have failed?"

Misery shrugged. "I don't have a choice. I have to go to the altar regardless. If you're saying we'll find ironbark atop the mountain as well, I can bring some back."

Ilen waved his hand, clearly ready to be done with this conversation. "Fine, bring back enough ironbark for a pair of daggers and a bow and I will give you the cloak for it."

"Deal," Misery agreed. She turned and began to walk off but didn't get far before she heard Merrill reproach the craftsman.

"Why do you set her up to fail?" she asked. "You didn't give her the Arulin'Holm!"

"If our hunters cannot reach the summit, neither can she. And you see what ignorant shems are like, they think they know everything, only to run off without knowledge of anything."

Misery pursed her lips in irritation. Having to simply take all of the insults without responding was trying what little patience she had.

Varric saw his companion's expression and stepped in. "What's an arulin-a-ma-jigger?"

Ilen pinched the bridge of his nose in visible annoyance. "_Arulin'Holm_," he stated sharply. "A Dalish carving tool sharp enough to cut ironbark. You will not harvest any significant amount of ironbark without it."

Merrill held out her hand expectantly. "I will bring it back to you when we return," she said simply. The elder male grumbled in elven while retrieving the tool. He fully expected to have to ask the keeper to send hunters up the mountain to recover it from her corpse. "Be careful how much faith you place in shems," he warned while handing her the Arulin'Holm.

"I could say the same about our people as well," she replied defiantly. Ilen threw up his hands in disgust and walked off.

Merrill turned back towards Misery, her face still bearing the appearance of bitterness. "I believe I will get my things and join you after all."

.

**AN: I tried to give the Dalish some teeth here that aren't present in-game. Something I thought Bioware pretty much destroyed in DA2 was the mystique of the Dalish. I mean, despite what the one Dalish hunter says about you not knowing how many Dalish arrows you've got pointed at you, it never feels like there are more than maybe a dozen Dalish total (not to mention year after year it's the same people standing in the same spots saying the same things). And unlike DA:O, the DA2 Dalish camp is almost devoid of tents and common things you'd expect to see if they actually lived there.**

**Also, the DA lore makes it clear the Dalish are extremely distrustful of outsiders (especially humans) and often outright hostile. So to be able in DA2 to simply stroll into the camp and saunter right up to Marethari without any resistance to your presence just seems ridiculous to me. **

**My gut tells me the pacing is too slow here on the heels of the previous chapter, but I didn't want to just gloss over the Dalish as a whole in order to get to Merrill and then up the mountain. Next chapter should have a faster pace with some action though!**


	11. The End of the Beginning

As far as Misery was concerned, morning came both too soon and not soon enough. Despite the friendly presence of Merrill joining them, the constant unfriendly glares and openly antagonistic comments leveled at them by other Dalish kept the group slightly on edge even within the relative safety of their little corner of the camp. It took the exhausted rogue a long time to get to sleep, but once she finally allowed herself to relax it had been quite easy to settle into a deep sleep.

After being not so gently roused from that deep sleep by a Dalish scout shortly before daybreak, Misery silently cursed being woken up so early while at the same time the strange mixed emotions of trepidation and anticipation at the day ahead of them quickly crept back in. That was even more the case when Marethari approached while they were eating and returned Misery's burden to her.

The group quietly got their equipment ready, leaving the bulk of it behind with the expectation of being back here later in the day. While equipping their gear, Varric noticed Merrill seemed antsy.

"Chomping at the bit to get going?" he asked her, chuckling softly in amusement.

"It's not wise to keep Asha'bellanar waiting," the elf replied in a slightly foreboding tone. "She is not known for her patience."

It was more than that though. If all went well, today would be the last she spent among her clan for likely a very long time. It filled her with fear, but at the same time being away from the ignorance her people constantly displayed over her plans for restoring their past was welcomed.

Varric looked at the elf curiously. "You make it sound like she is up there waiting at the altar on us."

Merrill frowned slightly. "She is and she isn't… I'm not sure how to explain it really… or that I even understand it myself for that matter."

"Waiting at the altar…" Bethany muttered while shaking her head, "that just sounds so wrong, like we're going to find Flemeth standing there in a white gown holding a bouquet of flowers."

"Can't say I'm able to picture the witch as a blushing bride," Aveline said.

"No kidding," Misery replied, beginning to walk towards the mountain trail while gesturing for everyone to follow. "It would be easier to imagine her turning into a dragon and eating her partners after mating."

"Does she do that?" Merrill asked curiously. "I-I mean, eat her mates? My people tell stories of Asha'bellanar, but few have actually met her. They say most people who meet Asha'bellanar wind up in little pieces hanging from the trees."

Misery shrugged. "She did swoop in and save us from the darkspawn when she didn't have to. The deal to deliver the amulet came after that."

"See, Anders?" Bethany added with a grin, "Swooping isn't always bad." Anders merely rolled his eyes in response. He hadn't had nearly enough sleep to engage in lively banter.

"Anyway," Misery continued, "I wouldn't say she was _pleasant _to us, but I didn't feel threatened by her either." After a moment's pause she softly added, "At least not then…"

Bethany kept grinning. "She _did _laugh at your stupid joke about how we could travel by the Deep Roads since all the darkspawn were up on the surface, and told you she liked you."

"Wow, Hawke, your story keeps getting better and better," Varric remarked. "Cracking jokes with the famed Witch of the Wilds?"

Misery smirked. "You still think we're shitting you about the whole dragon thing, don't you?"

Varric shrugged. "I've seen a lot of crazy shit, some of it even stuff I didn't make up, but Flemeth ranks up there with the best."

"Consider yourself lucky you missed out on meeting her, Varric," Aveline began with slight bitterness. "The only reason most of us lived through it was because she had a use for us."

"The amulet…" Anders stated.

"Right, I don't buy that she came to our rescue only out of curiosity about who slayed that ogre. She could've seen that without coming to our aid or revealing herself as more than a dragon. And with Merrill saying last night that the Dalish were sent here by the witch well before Flemeth ever met us, with orders to wait on someone to bring the amulet? She had a plan before she ever landed."

"I think that too," Bethany said. "I think the witch knew my sister killed the ogre and picked her specifically because of it… like she was intentionally looking for someone with the strength to survive long enough to get her amulet delivered. The way she spouted cryptic prophecy while talking to us, it was like she knew how things would play out."

"A fortune teller, eh?" Varric asked, still amused by the whole thing.

Bethany's expression became more serious. "Yes… but not like the kind you see all the time in the markets looking to swindle people out of some coin."

"Asha'bellanar," Merrill began, "in the common tongue that name means 'The Woman of Many Years'. No one knows exactly what she is or how long she has been alive, but it is said that when she speaks of the future, the things she speaks of come to pass."

Varric chuckled. "Campfire stories to spook the children, I like it. Maybe I'll embellish the story even further and make her a griffon when I retell it."

"Ooh! A griffon!" Merrill said in excitement. "Can we name it 'Feathers'?"

"Heads up!" Misery hissed in a low voice, interrupting the conversation. "We are not alone." She'd have been more specific, except she didn't really know what these things ahead were.

-==0==-

"Merrill, were these the _dark things_ you mentioned being on the mountain?" Bethany asked after the short battle ended and the companions regrouped. They'd been forced to engage what appeared to be magically animated corpses. Fortunately, the slow moving enemies offered little challenge.

The elf, staring at the ground and appearing somewhat shaken, looked up after hearing her name. "These were but some of the things that have made Sundermount their home. In the days of Arlathan the mountain was once the site of an ancient battle against the magisters of the Tevinter Imperium. The Veil is very thin and even torn in places, and spirits cross over from what you call the Fade. They possess and animate the dead, as with these we just fought. Further up the mountain prowl even more powerful creatures that were summoned in those days and never unbound."

"That's what has kept the Dalish hunters away from the summit?" Aveline asked.

"Yes."

Misery scoffed. "Why am I not surprised that Marethari chose to leave out that little detail about the task? We are fucking fodder for whatever is up there, aren't we?"

Merrill bowed her head. "I-I did not know you weren't told what to expect," she replied softly.

Misery waved her hand, sighing in frustration. "Let's just keep going."

"By the way, thanks for joining in the fight," Bethany said. "Your magic was very helpful."

The elf's expression brightened. "Oh! You're welcome! I… I didn't know how much help I would be. I mean, I've done a little fighting, but always alone. I-I promise I'll try not to hit anyone. On our side, I mean. I'm babbling again… Let's go."

Varric rubbed his chin, his expression contemplative as he stared at Merrill.

An elven magic user? Check.

Awkward and clumsy? Check.

Sweet and naïve? Check.

Danger to foe and friend? Check.

Take away the tattoos and he could even talk himself into the resemblance.

"Hey, Daisy," he finally said, "you said last night that you haven't seen your parents in over ten years?" When Merrill merely nodded in reply, he continued, "Your mother wouldn't happen to be Linu La'neral would it?"

The elven mage shook her head. "No, sorry, I don't know who that is. You've met other Dalish before?"

"Linu was an adventurer who years ago traveled with my crazy death obsessed cousin Grimgnaw for a time. She didn't have facial tattoos like your people, but you remind me an awful lot of her. Anyway, nothing to it, never mind."

-==0==-

Further up the mountain the group came across a Dalish hunter standing by himself in front of a fire. Upon their approach, the man glared hatefully and practically snarled at them.

"So, the keeper finally found someone to take you away from here," he remarked snidely to Merrill.

The elven mage bristled in visible annoyance with her fellow elf, but replied only with a curt, "Yes."

Shaking his head, the hunter turned his attention to Misery. "Finish your task quickly and leave. We cannot be rid of this one too soon."

Merrill pursed her lips. There was much she wanted to say, but little of it in front of the outsiders.

Bethany spoke up. "So… this is awkward. Anyone else think this is awkward? How about we all move along now?"

Ignoring the female mage, Merrill retorted, "I have made my choice, and I will save our clan no matter what you think."

The hunter scoffed openly, pushing his way through the middle of the group and forcing them to step aside for him as he started down the mountain towards the camp.

Misery glared at the back of the hunter. _You are damned lucky we're on your turf and not back in Kirkwall. Otherwise you would find an arrow in the back of your head about now._

"So, Daisy?" Varric began. "This is beginning to sound like you're not leaving the clan by choice. Did you do something to get yourself exiled?"

"It's nothing. Just ignorance. We should go now." Despite the denial, the bitterness in her tone was clear.

"You sure?" Varric asked.

"Let it be, Varric," Misery said. "Don't pester her. Whatever it is, it's obviously uncomfortable."

The female rogue took several more steps and then stopped and frowned. The trail abruptly ended with a large pile of rubble blocking the way. "Now what?" she asked in exasperation to no one in particular.

Merrill gestured towards their left. "We take the long way around. There is a cave not far off the path that leads into an old mining tunnel. We can pass through and come out on the other side of the landslide."

The detour took them around the side of a cliff facing and off the path a short distance into the thicket before they found a small opening semi-hidden behind brush. Misery didn't voice it, but she was glad Merrill was with them. They'd never have found this way on their own.

Before entering the cave, Merrill sighed and turned to face the group. "I… I am sorry… about earlier, I mean. You are really not seeing the Dalish at their best. We are normally a caring people that look out for each other… just apparently not today."

_Apparently more than just today by the way you've been ostracized, _Misery thought. The rogue could relate well enough to family issues, however, so rather than pick at that wound she sarcastically remarked, "Yeah, the Dalish are such a _delightful_ people. I was even thinking of inviting the whole clan over for tea after we're all done."

Merrill frowned. "I-I really don't think they would accept an- oh, wait…" She paused for a moment as realization set in. "I get it, sarcasm."

Varric put his face in his hand, thinking to himself that this girl was never going to survive living on her own in Kirkwall.

-==0==-

After entering the dark, dank cave, Bethany conjured a ball of flame in her hand to serve as a light. Merrill quickly followed suit. They could see at the back of the now dimly lit chamber was a doorway of sorts that presumably led further under the mountain.

"Your turn, Blondie," Varric said with a laugh. The former warden mumbled something unintelligible.

"What's that?"

"I said I don't do fire magic, okay?"

"What kind of mage can't cast a simple light spell?" Misery taunted. "Did they teach you _anything_ at the Circle?"

"Shut up," he groused while stalking forward.

"Careful, Hawke," Aveline said, "We don't need Anders deciding to do that glowing thing he does instead."

"Well, this sure is a charming place," Bethany offered sarcastically, changing the subject while looking around. "Downright creepy."

Misery smirked. "And here I was going to suggest that it reminded me of Uncle Gamlen's house. All that is missing is the aroma of rotting garbage."

"You're incorrigible," Bethany replied, though she was unable to stifle the grin that formed.

"Yep… number twenty-three on my list of shortcomings."

Merrill's eyes opened wide in surprise. "You keep an actual list of those? How long is the list?"

While Misery grinned mischievously, Bethany sighed. "Sarcasm, Merrill."

"Spoilsport," Misery replied before drawing both of her daggers. "If you don't mind?"

Knowing what her sister meant, Bethany nodded. A short incantation later, the blades of Misery's daggers were aglow from an elemental weapons spell. Aveline drew her longsword and Bethany repeated the procedure.

"I don't suppose that trick would work on Bianca, would it?" Varric asked. He sighed when Bethany shook her head.

Misery tsked the dwarf. "I distinctly remember telling you yesterday to get a dagger and you refusing. How's that working out for you now?"

"To quote Blondie… 'Shut up'."

"Yeah, well, just don't expect to cling to me like he is with Bethany," she replied, nodding at the pair of mages sharing the same personal space.

The dwarf tried to appear indignant as he turned and stalked away, but he didn't make it more than ten feet before tripping over a stalagmite protruding from the ground and falling.

"Are you okay?" Bethany asked as he pulled himself back to his feet.

Varric grumbled in response. He was obviously alright but didn't want to talk about it.

The female rogue frowned. As much fun as she was having poking at him, stumbling around in the dark was going to get him hurt, something they didn't need given Merrill's ominous statements about dark spirits further up the mountain. Sighing, she went and caught up with Varric.

"Here," she said simply, offering the dagger _Cruel _for him to take.

He shook his head. "I'm good."

She set _Song of Sorrows_ down on the ground to free up her other hand, then grabbed his wrist and squeezed the pressure point, painfully forcing his hand to open. "The words you were looking for were _thank you_," she said while pressing the hilt of the dagger into the palm of his hand. Picking up her other dagger, she made her way through the doorway and into a narrow tunnel.

-==0==-

They walked the long winding tunnel for a good thirty minutes, the magical firelight of the mages providing the only reprieve from the oppressive darkness. The cold, damp, stale air hung heavy, and more than once Misery wished she had Master Ilen's cloak to combat the chill. And with everything else, she was developing a nasty tension headache.

Finally, the tunnel ended and the party emerged inside a large cavern. A natural fissure in the rock at the side of the room let in a good amount of natural light, and more importantly created a doorway back outside. Through other cracks in the outer rock the cavern was bathed in streams of light and shadow. The female mages let go of their spells since there was enough light to see by.

Unconsciously, everyone let out a sigh of relief as they descended a flight of uneven stairs that had been carved into the rock ages ago judging from the condition they were in. Before they could get far into the cavern, however, they found themselves suddenly being swarmed by a large number of giant spiders.

Misery shrieked over and over in sheer terror. Her mind was racing, but no impulses were making it from there to her limbs. She stood frozen in place.

"Misery!" Varric shouted.

Similar shouts came from the others as they tried to get her to snap out of it while fighting at the same time. After a slash of her sword claimed a pair of legs from one spider, Aveline sped over and knocked the seemingly stunned rogue out of the way of another charging spider with her shield.

Landing in a sprawling heap on her rear jarred Misery's senses. She quickly got her feet and drew her bow while racing for high ground.

Anders backpedaled to the side of the room, staying clear of the action while casting healing and buffing spells. Seeing his companions at a disadvantage in terms of numbers, he quickly uttered a few words to hasten their reaction speed for a short period of time.

Bethany reached out and set a couple of spiders aflame before bashing the one closest to her in the head with her staff. The burning oily carapaces gave off a black smoke that made her eyes water, and as she stepped back and tried to clear her vision the other spider leapt forward and knocked her down. The mage managed to jam her staff sideways into the creature's mouth to hold off the fangs, but the lack of leverage and the spider's determination were quickly sapping her of strength.

Varric saw Bethany go down but was too preoccupied with his own foes to do anything about it. He pulled the switch to activate Bianca's bayonet and stabbed one of the spiders, and as soon as it pulled back from the blade he pulled the trigger to send a triplet of bolts into its side before turning to hold off another spider.

Misery, still fighting against her panic attack, willed herself to help her sister. Taking a deep breath, she turned loose an arrow that slammed into the back of the spider but wasn't enough to deter it away. She quickly drew another arrow. Just as she released it, the silhouette of a large magical fist sent forth by Merrill collided with the side of the spider, the force of impact knocking it off of the mage and several feet away. With the spider out of the way, Misery's arrow had nothing between it and Bethany. The arrow punched through the mage's chain smock and dug into her stomach.

The raven haired rogue let loose a string of expletives while jumping from her perch and racing to her sister. Bethany was already grunting out a healing spell as she got there.

Misery shook her head. "Hold your breath, this is going to hurt. Anders! Heal Bethany _now_!"

With that she grasped the arrow shaft and in a twisting motion ripped the arrow out. Bethany blew out her held breath, it turning to a screech. The warmth of Anders' healing washed over her, and she was grateful that her fellow mage's healing magic was much stronger than hers. It took away the worst of the pain, enough for her to get up and keep fighting.

Out of the corner of her eye, Misery caught sight of Revas intercepting a spider before it could attack her from behind, and she immediately sprinted away.

Varric screamed out as a spider dropped down from the ceiling right next to him and bit through his duster and into his side. He managed to push the creature back as he turned, but in doing so lowered Bianca to where the spider was able to pounce over her and sink its fangs into his bare chest. His vision immediately started to go dark from the intense pain.

Merrill quickly chanted another spell and vine-like tentacles sprung from the ground underneath the spider attacking the dwarf. The magical tentacles wrapped around the spider, stinging it constantly. It took mere seconds for the spider to collapse and stop moving.

"Misery, above you!" Aveline shouted in warning.

The rogue had run away from the center of the battle and wasn't even fighting, instead doing everything she could to stay as far from the spiders as possible. She looked up just in time have one land on top of her, and her legs immediately gave out from under her as panic consumed her.

She lost all awareness and began lashing out with her bare hands in an effort to get the spider off of her.

"Carver!" she screamed in fright. "Get them off of me! _Carver_!" Her voice cracked under the strain, the ongoing screams of terror being interrupted only by the need to draw additional breaths.

After what seemed like an interminable length of time, this last remaining spider that she was wrestling with exploded from the combination of Merrill's walking bomb spell, Bethany and Anders' barrage of arcane bolts, and Aveline racing up and running it through with her sword. The detonation left Misery and Aveline covered in spider guts, which did nothing to calm down the rogue.

"Anders," Bethany said quickly while gesturing to the dwarf sitting up against a wall trying to choke down a potion, "tend to Varric please."

Next she turned to the elven mage. "Merrill, do you know any healing magic?" When the elf shook her head no, Bethany sighed. "Never mind then. Just keep watch with Revas for any more of these things."

"Bethany! Get over here!" Aveline shouted. The worry in her tone was evident, and the mage quickly ran to her side.

"I don't know what's wrong with her," Aveline continued. "She's not responding, it's like she's not even aware we're here."

Despite her stomach doing flips from the putrid smell and the general appearance of the spider innards covering the two women, she knelt down and wiped her sister's face off as best she could, and pulled her into a tight embrace.

"Shhh… it's okay, it's over with." Even though she could tell her sister wasn't physically hurt, she went ahead and sent a healing spell over her trembling form.

Misery pressed her face into the younger girl's chest, clinging tightly to her for support while struggling to regain control over her own body. The fight or flight response triggered by her brain simply wouldn't shut down.

"Is she going to be okay?" Aveline asked after a couple of more minutes went by. All eyes in the room were on the Hawke sisters, curious to know what was going on.

"I… I hope so," Bethany replied softly, continuing to hold her older sister tightly. She was a little nervous because her breathing was still very shallow.

Varric, having been patched up, approached slowly. "Just a hunch here, but I'm guessing she's got a problem with spiders."

"Yeah…"

"Does it have something to do with why she cried out for Carver earlier?" Varric asked.

"Yeah…" Bethany echoed before sighing. Varric had learned the Hawke girls' mannerisms well enough to know he was supposed to be quiet now, so he stopped asking questions and just waited.

Merrill wanted to ask who Carver was, but decided that it probably wasn't a good time for that.

A few minutes later, Misery shuddered again, exhaling a long ragged breath. "I-I am o-okay…" she whispered hoarsely. "Th-thank you."

She let Bethany help her to her feet, and was relieved at feeling her frayed nerves slowly settling down. Shaking her head, in a spiteful tone she declared, "If I ever actually meet the Maker, I'm going to ask what the fuck He was thinking when he created spiders."

The remark unintentionally drew laughter from most of her companions, who were all relieved that she was seemingly okay.

Anders smirked. "How is that the tough as nails, nothing stands in my way Misery Hawke ends up screaming like a little girl at just the sight of a spider?" He'd noticed earlier that she'd begun screaming immediately when the spiders appeared.

"It's best for your health to shut up now," Misery replied.

"Oh, sure, you talk tough now. What if we bring another spider in here? What then?" he taunted.

"Anders, I mean it. Shut the fuck up right now."

"Why? You can sure dish it out, but when it comes back on you, you can't take it?"

"Anders!" Bethany said sharply. "Stop it!" The male mage glared back briefly but fell silent.

Trying to lighten the mood, Varric sighed theatrically. "I guess this means I'll have to cross 'Black Widow' off my list of possible nicknames for you, eh?"

Misery shook her head, realizing immediately what he was trying to do.

"If you must know, when we were kids, we'd just moved again… to this small village close to Dragon's Peak. Anyway, the three of us were playing in an old abandoned barn and I… I got up in the hayloft and turned right into this huge, thick spider web. Carver laughed at me at first, and I _was_ a very stick mess with that web wrapped completely around me… but then…"

She paused for a moment, fighting back the emotions that were threatening to bubble up again.

"Then… suddenly, spiders were everywhere on me. They were in my hair, on my arms and legs, my face… they crawled inside my clothes… and then they started biting. I screamed for Carver to help… at first he kept laughing, thinking I was just scared…"

Misery shook her head, sighing deeply. "By the time he figured out I really needed help, I was gone… I found out later that I'd fallen out of the loft, broke my arm. Bethany raced home and got Father while Carver carried me part of the way until he got there. The spiders were mildly poisonous, but the sheer number of times I was bitten apparently made it a much closer brush with death."

"Fortunately, _these _spiders weren't poisonous," Anders said.

Varric nodded solemnly, beginning to walk towards the far side of the cavern. "I guess you were reliving that when you called out for Carver earlier?"

Misery raised an eyebrow curiously. "What do you mean?"

"In the battle, after that spider landed on you," Bethany explained, "you cried out for Carver to help you."

The raven haired rogue frowned briefly, then shrugged. "I don't know. To be honest, everything that happened from the time we entered this cavern until a few minutes ago is at best a blur."

"Oh, that's not so bad then," Merrill suggested optimistically, "you probably wouldn't want to remember shooting your sister anyway."

Remembering his own accidental shooting of the younger Hawke, Varric opted not to contribute anything to the discussion and instead continued to look around.

Misery's eyes opened wide and immediately turned back to Bethany. The younger sister grinned and pointed to her stomach where the broken links of her chain supplied the evidence.

"You at least warned me it was going to hurt when you ran over and yanked the arrow back out," Bethany said sarcastically, drawing a groan from her sister.

"Don't worry about it," Bethany said, preempting the apology. "Let's get going."

As they turned to leave, Anders noticed Varric looking around the corners of the cavern as if he was searching for something.

"Varric? You looking for something?"

The dwarf shrugged while walking back towards the group. "Just seeing if there were any crystal formations in here."

"Crystal formations?" Bethany asked.

"Yeah… there was this guy I knew, Revan, who told me a story about fighting large spiders like these. He called them 'kinrath'. Anyway, he said that there was a cave he and some companions found, where they fought a bunch of the kinrath, and at the back of the cave there were various crystal formations that glowed different colors and such. I thought I'd see if this cavern was like the one he told me about, but it doesn't look like it."

Misery shook her head. "Anyone ever tell you that you know the weirdest damned people?"

Varric laughed. "And one day I'm sure I'll be telling someone else about you too, Misery." He added a knowing wink at the end.

Misery smirked. "Well, we'd better do something worthy of telling stories about then. Let's go."

-==0==-

As they emerged one at a time from the cavern, not even the slightly gloomy, overcast sky could dampen the raised spirits from being back outdoors again. The clean, crisp air was greedily breathed in, a welcome reprieve from the oppressive atmosphere inside the mountain. Confident they were on the right path, Merrill led them further along the winding trail, which took them higher up.

After almost an hour of walking, they came across a shimmering blue light stretched across the width of the path. It was clearly magical in nature, and just as clearly intended to prevent passage.

"Why would a barrier be here?" Anders asked. "Is there someone or some_thing_ up here trying to keep people away?"

Bethany was curious as well. "Is this why the Dalish hunters haven't been able to get to the summit?"

Merrill didn't answer the questions except to say, "I can open the way forward. One moment."

She'd barely taken a step before Misery grabbed her by the elbow and turned her. "What is going on here, Merrill? You act like you knew the barrier would be here. What are we going to find on the other side?"

The elf was frightened momentarily at the aggressive act by the rogue. She gulped slightly before tentatively explaining, "W-we are a-almost there. Restless things prowl the heights, and they are not peaceful. The keeper put the barrier up to contain the dark spirits."

"Uhhh…" Varric said, "Should we really be trying to take it down then?"

"We must," Merrill replied matter-of-factly. "It is the only way to reach the altar. We should be prepared to fight."

With that, the elven mage calmly went and stood in front of the barrier. Retrieving a short survival knife from her small pack, a look of determination took hold as she braced herself before suddenly slashing open the palm of her left hand. She muttered the words of an incantation, and as she did the blood began to rise and swirl around her hand. Finally she threw both hands out in front of her. A blast of red light shot forth and collided with the blue light of the barrier, nullifying it. Satisfied with the result, Merrill put her knife away and turned to face the group.

Misery rubbed her temples. She didn't know what it was, but she felt as if something unseen had moved. It left her head throbbing even more in its wake.

"That was a summoning!" Anders exclaimed. "That takes blood magic! Are you crazy?"

Varric shook his head. "Come on, Blondie, didn't the swirly blood thingy after she slit her wrist give the blood magic part away?"

"I could feel the Veil shift!" Bethany exclaimed in equal incredulity. "You brought something out of the Fade!"

Merrill held up her hands in front of her, gesturing for them to calm down. "Yes, it was blood magic, but I know what I'm doing. The spirit helped us, didn't it?"

Misery glared hard. "Spirit? Bethany?"

"Demon," the younger girl answered.

Misery nodded. She'd expected as much. "Call it what it is, Merrill. You summoned a demon. And of course they're helpful… right up until they take over your mind and body and turn you into something you never foresaw. And something you can never turn back from."

Bethany noticed Anders' expression fall and strongly suspected that he'd just taken those remarks personally. She reached over and took his hand in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze of assurance. He smiled weakly before his lips tightened grimly.

"It's a dangerous game you play, Merrill," he warned. "Demons will promise anything to get you to lower your guard and give them a foothold in a mortal brain."

The elf stared back defiantly. "Yes, well, that won't happen. I know how to defend myself."

_I find that exceedingly difficult to believe_, Misery thought to herself.

She also cynically questioned if Marethari knew that letting this naïve elven blood mage go off to live on her own in a city like Kirkwall was at best handing her over to the Circle and at worst a death sentence. Right now she didn't care, however. The barrier was down and if Merrill was right, they were close to the altar. So rather than say anything else, she simply stalked past the elf with her bow at the ready for whatever they were going to come up against.

-==0==-

"Let's get this over with," Misery said irritably as she took the amulet off of her neck and handed it to Merrill.

The elf had been correct about dark things being contained behind the barrier. The group had been forced to walk through an ancient graveyard and naturally the dead rose from the ground to attack them. The undead were joined by other demons, including a particularly nasty one Anders described afterwards as _arcane horror_, which was apparently what happened when a pride demon possessed the corpse of a dead mage.

The fighting was brutal, but being able to _see _the altar at the top of the hill they were on gave Misery even more tenacity than usual. And fortunately for them, the demons seemed especially vulnerable to Merrill's particular brand of magic. The two of them had nearly single handedly turned the tide of the battle - Misery in taking down the arcane horror, and Merrill in eliminating the shadow assassins that had been wreaking havoc against the others.

The elven mage accepted the amulet and placed it on the altar. She stepped back and held up her hand while bowing her head and closing her eyes.

"Remind me why we're having a funeral for an inanimate object?" Varric asked in an offhanded manner.

"Because Marethari used this as an excuse to get us to do the dirty work of clearing out the demons up here," Misery answered cynically. She really didn't care if that offended Merrill or not at this point.

If Merrill was bothered by what the female rogue had said, she didn't show it. She simply began speaking the words of the elven funeral rite _In Uthenera_.

"Anyone know what she's saying?" Anders asked.

"Shhh!" Misery hissed, "I've never heard this spoken out loud before, I'm trying to listen."

Merrill continued speaking, finally concluding with the line, "In Uthenera na revas _(In waking sleep is freedom)_."

"Revas…" whispered Misery, echoing the elf.

The final words were barely out of Merrill's mouth before a mist began to rise from the amulet. The mist grew, coalescing above the altar. Suddenly there was a flash of blinding light that forced everyone to look away briefly. When they returned their gazes to the altar, it was in shock to see the kneeling form of Flemeth.

The ancient witch gracefully hopped down on to the ground, standing fully upright as if stretching out after a long period of being cooped up. She stepped forward, her penetrating stare leveled at Misery Hawke.

"Ahhh… and so here we are," she said, breaking the silence.

Merrill hurriedly bowed formally. "Andaran atish'an Asha'bellanar," she said. Her tone was mixed of respect and fear as she gave the traditional formal elven greeting.

Flemeth's striking amber eyes turned their attention to the elf. "One of the People, I see," she began, her own tone laced with derision. "Do you know who I am, beyond the title?"

The young elf's eyes were still directed at the ground in front of her, unwilling to look up and meet the witch's gaze. "I know only a little."

Flemeth scoffed slightly before allowing her expression to soften. "Then stand. The People bend their knee far too quickly." Merrill hesitated before tentatively standing up and facing her.

The witch's attention turned back to Misery, who was like the others in not knowing what to make of what just happened. "So refreshing to see someone fulfill their end of a bargain. I half expected my amulet to end up in the pocket of a merchant."

Misery huffed. "Bullshit," she stated, drawing gasps from most of her companions for speaking to the witch in such as harsh tone. "You knew how to make sure I got you here. You rode my ass, and would've killed me if I'd dumped the burden off on some random merchant. You know, you could have told me I was carrying _you _here, that this was the reason why delivering the amulet was so fucking important."

Flemeth smirked at the girl, finding amusement in her brash behavior. That inner strength was precisely why she'd chosen her. "Just a piece of me. A small piece, but it was all I needed. A bit of security should the inevitable happen. "

"What are you? Anders asked. "A spirit? An abomination? This is no magic I've ever seen!"

The witch chuckled. "And you would know of spirits and abominations, wouldn't you?" There was a knowing gleam in her penetrating gaze.

Anders shifted on his feet uncomfortably. "I-I'm a mage. Of course I would know of such things."

"Of course," she replied, smiling with that same knowing expression. Cryptically she added, "I am a fly in the ointment. I am a whisper in the shadows. I am also an old, old woman. More than that you need not know."

"I know you're scaring the piss out of me," Varric mumbled.

"But why did you need my sister to carry you here?" Bethany asked. "You could have simply flown here?"

"Because I had an appointment to keep," Flemeth replied ominously. "And because I did not wish to be followed. You smuggled me here quite nicely."

Misery shook her head. "That doesn't make any sense. How could you be both there and in the amulet at the same time?"

Flemeth cackled in laughter. "Must I be in only one place? Bodies are such limiting things. I am but a fragment cast adrift from the whole. A bit of flotsam to cling to in the storm!"

Seeing the girl's confused expression, Flemeth waved her hand while stepping closer. "You do not need to understand, Child. Know only that you may have saved my life, just as I once saved yours. An even trade I think, whether I had to _encourage_ you to bring me here or not."

Misery nodded numbly. "What now? Is my oath fulfilled?"

Flemeth nodded in return, turning her back and walking a few paces before turning back around. "Destiny awaits us both, dear girl. We have much to do. Before I go, a word of advice? We stand on the precipice of change. The world fears the inevitable plummet into the abyss. Watch for that moment… and when it comes, do not hesitate to leap. It is only when you fall that you learn whether you can _fly._"

"You speak as if you know for a fact something is coming," Misery replied.

"The future is never certain, but it can be shaped to your will."

Bethany sighed. "I can't help but feel we're going to regret this."

Flemeth's eyes narrowed at the young mage. "Regret is something I know all too well. Take care not to cling to it, to hold it so close that it poisons your soul. And when the time comes for your regrets, remember me."

The witch then turned back to Merrill. "As for you, Child, step carefully. No path is darker than when your eyes are shut."

"Ma serranas, Asha'bellanar," Merrill replied, thanking the old woman even though she didn't understand what she meant.

Flemeth regarded the entire group for a moment before her eyes settled on Misery. "Now the time has come for me to leave. You have my thanks…" She paused briefly, then almost as an afterthought added, "and my sympathies…"

"Are you going to do the dragon thing?" Misery asked. "Any chance we can catch a ride back to the Dalish camp?"

"Are you insane?" Bethany asked.

Flemeth cackled again before her expression turned serious. "Keep that strong spirit. You will need it in the dark days ahead. You will go only as far as your own legs carry you."

With that, the witch turned away and her body began to change. At first she began glowing, and then turned translucent. She stood back up on the altar and in a flash of light transformed into her high dragon form and flew off, quickly gaining distance from Sundermount.

Merrill quietly went and retrieved the now _empty_ amulet, putting it in her pack to give to the keeper when they got back to the camp.

"Guess that was a 'no' on giving us a ride then," Misery finally said.

Despite the sarcasm laced tone, she felt both a huge amount of relief at having the burden that had plagued her for so long lifted, and a bit of trepidation at the realization that the witch's words about going only as far as her own legs would carry her was really a statement about her future.

Bethany flashed a mischievous grin at Varric. "A dragon? You're shitting me," she said in a bad impression of the dwarf.

Varric was still staring out on the horizon in disbelief, the shadow of the dragon not completely gone from sight. He chuckled slightly while shaking his head. "Don't even bother plucking the feathers on that crow, Sunshine, just give me whole bird."

"Hopefully that's the last time we'll see the witch," Aveline said dryly.

"If we are still going to harvest ironbark, we should get going," Merrill suggested. "We might not make it back down the mountain before dark otherwise."

Misery nodded and waved for the others to follow. There would be time for reflection later.

.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: A few more Bioware references :-) For those that didn't catch them, Linu and Grimgnaw are companions from Neverwinter Nights, and Revan is the main character in Knights of the Old Republic. <strong>

**We'll finish up with the Dalish in the next chapter. What I'd written for this chapter was getting a bit too long, so I made the cut here and pushed the remaining content into the next chapter. Guess the good news is that gives me a good ~3000 word head start on chapter 12 :-)**


	12. Leaving the Dalish

The raven haired rogue sat down and leaned back against the side of the mountain, rubbing her temples wearily. Her head had begun throbbing again as they left the area with the altar and made their way to the summit, and fighting through more possessed corpses and skeletons along the way had done nothing to alleviate it.

A particularly formidable foe called a Revenant caused them enough trouble that Misery felt a twinge of guilt at extending the trip for the sole purpose of gathering ironbark to trade with Master Ilen. She didn't feel guilty that it was on her behalf that they'd traveled to find the Dalish in the first place, or that it was on her behalf that they'd gone to the ancient altar to complete Flemeth's ritual. After all, she thought, they were all with her by choice. But she also knew how she would feel if she'd agreed to a job and then after the job was complete she'd been dragged into more danger for someone else's completely self-serving reasons.

It pained her to admit it, but if she was one of the others, _she_ would want to kill her about now.

_Maybe if I bring back more ironbark than Ilen asked for, the others can get something from him too._

Revas laid down next to his master, laying his head in her lap and looking up at her with his large brown eyes until she gave in and paid attention to him.

Merrill took the Arulin'Holm from her pack and gave it to Varric, who volunteered to go first in cutting away the ironbark from a fallen tree into manageable lengths to carry back to the camp. While he worked, the others settled around the enclosed circular area, relaxing for a bit before heading back down the mountain.

"There is another one of those barriers," Bethany said after a few minutes, gesturing to the shimmering blue light covering an opening in the side of the mountain.

"I vote we leave it alone," Aveline replied. "I've had more than enough of demons and spirits for today."

Anders huffed. "What's the point anyway in sealing demons behind a barrier that requires a demon's help to open?" He stood back up from where he'd been sitting on the ground next to Bethany. The former warden picked up a rock and briefly tested its weight in his hand.

"Why couldn't they have made it so the barrier could be opened by oh, I don't know, throwing a rock at it!"

Anders whipped the one in his hand at the barrier. It rebounded off the barrier with a resounding thud, falling harmlessly to the ground. The stone had barely hit the ground, however, when shadow gathered in front of the barrier in the form of a warrior. A quartet of shades also emerged from the lingering shadows in the area, moving to attack those intruding on their haven.

"Anders, you twit!" Aveline shouted while hurriedly grabbing her sword and shield.

Varric dropped the Arulin'Holm and ran towards where he'd set Bianca down while working on the ironbark. He didn't make it before a shade clubbed him in the back of the head, its heavy clawed hand connecting hard enough to disorient him as he fell sprawling on his face.

Merrill sent a magical stone fist at the shade attacking her dwarven companion, knocking it aside and giving Varric a temporary reprieve. Distracted by his foe, she was caught unaware by the one behind her. The shade clawed through her tunic, opening a large gash down her back that left her screeching and unable to summon enough concentration to cast through the pain.

Bethany engaged the shade that had been wounded by Merrill. She parried an attack with one end of her staff and immediately countered with a thrust that connected solidly with creature's torso and doubled it over. She followed up with a crushing blow to the side of the head that knocked it down. Gritting her teeth, she repeatedly bashed the shade in the head until it let out a guttural wail and dissolved to ash.

Anders sent a blast of lightning at the shade that was charging him. The attack tore a hole in the creature's chest, and thinking it dying he turned to start healing the elven mage. His healing spell hadn't left his mouth before consciousness left him when the badly wounded but not completely finished shade hit him in the side of the head.

The shadow warrior was very quick, frustrating Aveline because she couldn't land a clean blow. It seemed to anticipate what she wanted to do, avoiding her attacks outright or countering with just the thing to get through her defenses. The redheaded warrior was accumulating wounds and losing strength.

After Revas and Misery finished off another shade, the rogue turned at the sound of Aveline's loud grunt just in time to see the shadow warrior pulling his dagger back out of her shoulder, where he'd been successful in wedging it under the pauldron. Misery drew another arrow and set it to flight, cursing at herself when it sailed harmlessly overhead.

Aveline barely got her shield up to block the next attack, but as she tried to counter, her compromised sword arm gave out on her and she dropped her blade.

Revas raced over and leapt at the shadow warrior, sinking his teeth into the creature's upper left arm and yanking viciously, pulling the shadow down. It wailed as it tried to free itself from the grasp of the mabari.

Revas clamped down as hard as he could and finally claimed the arm at the elbow. Not being mortal, however, the grievous injury wasn't enough to stop the warrior. It kicked the dog in the head and bent down to retrieve the dagger that had fallen with its other arm. An arrow from Misery collided with its back and halted its advance, and a very angry Aveline slashed its throat with the edge of her shield before bashing the shadow over on to its back. She ensured the shadow died by stomping on its head repeatedly with her heavy boots.

Bethany finished off the shade that had been severely weakened by Anders. Seeing her sister and Revas handling the remaining shade, she did a quick scan of her companions and started healing Aveline, the one closest to being in fighting condition if needed.

Misery fired an arrow into the shade at point blank range, then swung the bow in a backhand slash. The upper limb connected solidly. In a well practiced motion she drew the knife above her right hip and plunged it into the chest of the creature. She pulled back to attack again when Revas overwhelmed the foe and tore into it. Moments later the fierce mabari was coughing from the ashes of his victim in his mouth.

With the battle over, attention turned to mending wounds.

"I should wring your neck for that!" Aveline hissed at Anders, who was conscious again and working on Merrill's back while Bethany tended to Varric.

The spirit healer was smart enough not to provoke the hot-headed guard. Instead, he silently continued applying a poultice to the elf's back while chanting healing magic.

Misery picked up the dagger that had been wielded by the shadow warrior. She turned it over in her hands, admiring the craftsmanship. It looked fairly similar to what she remembered of Isabela's daggers, thought she could tell it was elven by the markings.

"Merrill? Can you tell me what this says?"

The elven mage looked at the dagger. "Arm of Adruil. That… might have been who that shadow warrior was in life."

Nodding, Misery sighed gently. The extra trip up here had been profitable, but she wasn't happy at the physical cost. She was with Aveline in wanting to strangle Anders, but she also knew they wouldn't even have been in the situation if she hadn't dragged them up here. She quietly went back to the fallen tree, and taking the Arulin'Holm in hand began cutting.

-==0==-

It was after dark by the time they made it back to the Dalish camp. Fortunately it was without incident on the way back down, but Misery still decided to wait until morning to seek out Marethari. After the long day, she didn't trust herself to maintain the level of _respect _the Dalish required of them, and she expected that if she said the wrong thing they'd be made to leave the camp immediately. They were all exhausted and most would be feeling the effects of their injuries for a few days, so the last thing they needed was to be forced to hit the road at night in their current conditions. Well, the next to last thing they needed anyway. The _last _thing would be to piss the Dalish off to the point that they simply attacked.

Misery did return the Arulin'Holm and gave the ironbark to Master Ilen. In total they'd managed to bring back roughly three times as much ironbark as he'd requested, earning his grudging thanks and the exchange of additional items.

Neither Varric nor Aveline saw anything they wanted, but in addition to the cloak for Misery, Bethany replaced her worn boots with a pair of elven boots lightly enchanted to augment a mage's mana regeneration, and Anders picked out an enchanted ring that would boost the power of his lightning based spells. Both wondered how many Dalish mages there really were for the craftsman to carry accessories made specifically for mages, but neither felt like asking the grouchy man about it.

After the group finished with Master Ilen, Merrill approached Misery carrying a small bundle. The elf awkwardly explained that it contained some Dalish soaps and shampoos and that there was a stream close by where they could go to get cleaned up. Still wearing the remnants of spider and the blood of other battles amidst her own sweat and grime, the rogue couldn't even muster a snarky comeback in response. Instead, she called everyone together and let Merrill lead the way.

Anders joked about the community bath along the way, despite a couple of punches in the arm from Bethany, only to be disappointed when they arrived and Misery announced they'd go two at a time while the others waited a short distance away. Much to his unsurprised chagrin, his bathing "partner" turned out to be Varric. Not that it mattered in the end. Despite his flirtatious overtures with Bethany, the cold mountain water left him in a rather unflattering physical state, which wasn't exactly the first impression he wanted to make in that area of their relationship.

The group was finally able to settle down to eat after getting cleaned up, and as the evening went on began to enjoy some semblance of relaxation.

-==0==-

Misery sat down next to Varric in front of the campfire, now wearing the cloak she'd obtained from Ilen. With Aveline already having turned in and Bethany and Anders off for a walk together, it was a good time for Misery to chat with Varric alone.

"Here…" she said softly to the dwarf.

Varric raised an eyebrow curiously. "What's this?"

"A silverite Dar'Misu… one of the better daggers I've seen."

"I can see it's a dagger. I meant, what's this for?"

"I know you didn't see anything you wanted in Ilen's stock, but… I picked this out. It was free given the amount of ironbark we brought back. Anyway, even if you never have to draw it in battle, have it available in case something happens."

The dwarf frowned at the solemn expression on his fellow rogue's face. He knew she'd noticed him get caught on the summit without Bianca at the ready and that it resulted in him getting taken out of the battle right as it was beginning. He sighed but made no move to accept the weapon.

"Misery, I haven't carried a dagger in a long time… it dredges up bad memories."

"Ooh, story time? Tell me, tell me, pester pester, nag nag."

Varric shook his head in amusement at the smirking female. "Do you actually want to hear it, or are you just giving me a hard time?"

Misery shrugged. "Mostly giving you a hard time. You know me. I'll listen, but I'm not going to lose sleep over it if it isn't something you want to talk about."

"Yeah, I know… you have a disturbing lack of curiosity." After winking at her, he sighed gently. "I used to run with some guys in the Carta, did things I'm not real proud of. Contract killings… assassinations… striking from the shadows and disappearing was my thing. I didn't actually engage in much melee fighting because if I did things right the target never saw me coming, but a dagger was my tool of choice back then."

"Hard to picture you as the assassin type."

Varric chuckled softly. "I'm a bard, Hawke. Most of what people think they know about me is what I want them to think. And people think I'm joking when I talk about the Merchant's Guild being cutthroat. I'm not. Let's just say I understand the things you've done to protect your family a lot more than I've let on."

"Don't you still protect Bartrand? Is it so different using a crossbow, other than you can drop a target at range without getting your clothes stained?"

"Ahhh… well… the difference is that in the past I didn't kill only to protect the family's interests. _Upstanding_ citizens don't like to get their own hands dirty, but they're often more than willing to part with good coin to have someone else do it for them. Ironically, I'm the one paying for the dirtier work now."

Misery looked down at the dagger in her hand. "No worries then. I suppose we can just sell it in Kirkwall."

"Nah, it's not that." He smirked slightly as he took the dagger from her hands. "Anyway… you're right. With the shit you get us into, it's suicidal for me not to have any kind of backup."

Misery reached over and put her hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. She smiled gently and whispered, "The dagger is also to say thank you for making this trip from Kirkwall for me. I can't describe how much of a relief it is to have that amulet out of my life."

In the soft lighting provided by the fire and moonlight, combined with the scent of wildflowers from the Dalish shampoo he could smell at this close distance lingering in her hair, and the rare gentle, unguarded expression she wore, Varric for the first time really became aware of his partner as a woman. Misery wasn't the type that put any effort into being beautiful, she simply was. From her deep aqua eyes framed by perfect lashes, to the cute stray lock of her black tousled hair that always seemed to hang down over the bridge of her nose, to the full lips, slender neck, athletic body – he gulped slightly while quickly trying to shake away this line of thought before it led him to a place that would get him killed.

_Maker's breath, Varric! Pull yourself together! _he thought, scolding himself. _This is Hawke here! I must still be loopy from that blow to the head earlier…_

He forced himself to break eye contact. Staring back at the fire and then down at the dagger in his hands, he felt relief when she pulled her hand away, as it helped him stop focusing on her physical presence. Collecting himself, he glanced back up at her and flashed his trademark grin. "Admit it. You just wanted to see me piss myself when Flemeth showed up."

Misery laughed, completely oblivious to Varric's discomfort a moment earlier. "If nothing else, I suppose that qualified as us doing something worthy of telling stories about."

"Crazy when the truth is less believable than the shit I usually come up with."

The female rogue nodded and stood up. "I'm going to get some sleep. I suggest you do the same, it'll be a few more long days before we're back in Kirkwall."

"No kidding… I can't wait to sleep in my own bed again. I never imagined I could miss the smell of stale beer and vomit so much. The elves can keep this nature stuff."

-==0==-

Anders and Bethany sat together near the edge of camp, him leaning back against a boulder and her in front of him leaning back with her head on his chest and his hands gently rubbing her shoulders. They chatted in spurts interrupted by stretches of comfortable silence.

"What do you think of her?" Anders asked.

"Merrill?"

"Yeah, our friendly elven blood mage." He chuckled sarcastically.

"I… I don't see how she's going to survive on her own in Kirkwall. I mean, even if she somehow avoids the templars, which is doubtful enough, just everyday living is going to be a challenge. She will be easy prey for the less savory elements."

"You might think this is hypocritical coming from me, but her casual, reckless use of blood magic and dealing with demons is exactly why people fear mages. She doesn't even get how dangerous what she's doing is."

"You don't have to be self-conscious about Justice with me. I trust you, Anders. I know you try to be responsible."

Anders sighed, feeling more contentment than he had in some time. He leaned forward and kissed her on the back of the head, soaking in the clean scent of her hair. For a moment he even forgot to fret over how long Justice would allow him this peace.

"I doubt your sister thinks Merrill and I are any different," he finally said.

"I think I will talk to her about Merrill," she replied, intentionally not commenting on his statement. "I'm not sure if my sister will like it, but I won't feel good about simply dumping her in the alienage without anyone to watch out for her."

"Please be careful. You just might be too caring for your own good."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say _you _had been talking to my sister."

Anders chuckled softly. "I'm not that big a glutton for punishment."

Bethany stiffened uncomfortably. "We should go back," she said with coolness in her tone. "It's getting late." She pulled away and stood up, grabbing her staff from where she'd left it propped up.

"Beth? What'd I do?"

She folded her arms across her chest. "Look, I get it, you and my sister don't like each other. But I can't handle the constant reminders of it. I can't do this… this being put in the middle… between you two."

Anders bowed his head contritely before slowly getting to his feet and moving to her. She allowed him to embrace her and pull her head to his chest, though she didn't return the embrace.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I wasn't trying to make you feel that way." He thought she was overreacting a bit, but as the only source of light he'd had in his life in awhile, he was going to do his best not to push her away.

"Then please stop doing it."

"You realize that in your own way you're just as tough as she is, don't you?"

Bethany smirked, but she relaxed and allowed herself to return the embrace. "What can I say? I'm a Hawke."

"That you are... Anyway, for you I… I will try not to snipe about her."

Bethany lifted her head and rose up on tip toes in order for her lips to reach his. "Thank you," she whispered after breaking the kiss.

He realized that the girl in his arms made him actually want to keep his promise, something he had never exactly been known for doing. He only hoped that he knew what he was doing, that this wouldn't end with him hurting her.

-==0==-

Misery slowly inhaled a long breath of the cool morning air before releasing it just as slowly through her nose in an attempt to ease the tension from her expression. As had been the case ever since they entered the Dalish camp, a multitude of elven eyes disconcertingly tracked her every movement. It wouldn't have surprised her in the least to find out they were watched from cover even while bathing the previous night. But here they were approaching Keeper Marethari. And despite the deliberate, measured steps they took in an effort to be non-threatening, the hostile postures of the Dalish warriors and hunters ready to attack at the slightest provocation had returned.

Though Misery had already given herself a lecture to behave, even after a solid night's sleep she was still feeling the urge to lay into Marethari. It was an urge tempered only by the knowledge that it would be suicidal to do so. She'd considered simply having Merrill return the amulet and avoiding the keeper altogether, but after Bethany pulled her aside and asked her about Merrill, she now needed to speak with the keeper about that. And she also couldn't just let the previous day go. It wasn't in her to do so. Knowing that, Misery had also made preparations to hopefully get the conversation off to a good start.

The female rogue held up her hand to halt her party twenty feet back while continuing forward to stand before the old keeper. She was well aware of the circle tightening around them, much as it had at their first meeting.

"Andaran atish'an, Keeper," Misery said somewhat stiffly as she focused on getting the syllables and inflection of the elven greeting taught to her by Merrill correct. She held the amulet outstretched.

Marethari's eyes widened only slightly in surprise before the corners of her lips tugged into a faint smile. She accepted the amulet with a nod, not needing to check it magically to know the task had been completed. The high dragon soaring overhead the previous afternoon had made that perfectly clear.

"Andaran atish'an," she replied in return, the smooth lilt of her voice reflecting a degree of respect for the girl at least making the effort.

On the other hand, it was obvious that not everyone appreciated it. "Speak your own tongue, _shem_! You have no place among us," one of the male hunters groused.

Misery glanced over, unable to stop a glare from forming when she recognized him as the one they'd had the brief encounter with the previous day. Several different colorful phrases to retort with danced precariously close to the tip of her tongue. Fortunately, Marethari drew her attention back before any of them spilled out.

"Ma serannas, Child," she began. Your debt is repaid in full."

"I hope 'ma serannas' means 'thank you'," Misery blurted out, her words ill-considered. "You didn't tell me we were going to have to fight half the Fade just to get there."

"It does, and you did not ask."

Misery rubbed her face while trying to rein in her frustration. "Why would you withhold that information when you _needed _me to be successful? Since, you know, your clan wasn't going anywhere until Asha'bellanar got what she wanted? Are the Dalish so obtuse to each other as well?"

The male hunter strode forward. "You will speak to the keeper with respect or you will leave now!" His tone and body language indicated a clear hatred for the outsiders in their presence.

"Respect?" Misery asked incredulously, her temper finally besting her. She pointed an accusing finger at the hunter. "You demand respect without giving any in return. Not even after we cleared out every fucking fiend between here and the summit for you! So you can throw a little 'ma serannas' my way, or you can shut the fuck up."

"This isn't good…" Varric muttered. Tensions were visibly rising. "Hey, Hawke?" he called out, "_Please _don't fondle Andraste here, okay?"

The hunter's own anger took control and he leapt at the rogue. Misery didn't even flinch as he grabbed her arm and sneered, "You shemlen are all the same, always thinking you are superior. You would not be the first one I've killed."

Misery's icy gaze remained constant, but her mind was racing, continually discarding the words and actions she really wanted to express. Even unarmed it would be so simple to kill this pretentious elf before he knew it was coming. She finally offered a restrained, "There are good and bad examples of all races. You would be wise to remember that. For the sake of your clanmates, I won't judge the Dalish as a whole based solely on you."

Marethari sighed. "Junar, you will stand down." Her eyes turned to the human girl. "As will you," she added in a tone that would brook no protest from either of them.

"But, Keeper!" Junar protested.

"That is enough," Marethari began, her voice conveying multiple matronly characteristics. There was a protectively warm, understanding quality to it, mixed with a demand for obedience and an undercurrent of warning that her patience was running out. "We are not too proud to be grateful for their assistance."

Junar sneered again but let go of the rogue's arm and backed away. Misery was fully aware that she'd pressed her luck, but she felt a strange sense of calm anyway. Perhaps it was because at the moment the keeper seemed intent on maintaining the fragile peace.

After using only a firm gaze to march Junar back to where he had originally been standing, Marethari returned her attention to the girl. "There is truth in your words, Child. Though our encounters with humans have rarely been pleasant, a human Grey Warden came into contact with us a few times over the years. He was an honorable man."

When Misery merely nodded in acknowledgement, the old woman continued, "We upheld our obligation to Asha'bellanar by providing you the means of completing the funeral rite. I would not have entrusted Merrill to you had I not expected you to be successful, nor would I have denied your soul the release it longed for. No doubt speaking with Asha'bellanar again provided that finality. That your steps no longer carry with them the burden you arrived with is unmistakable."

The rogue frowned briefly before nodding again. She still wasn't happy at being used like she'd been, but she couldn't deny that seeing it through to the end and discovering the true purpose behind the amulet had left her with a greater sense of contentment than had she simply delivered it to Marethari and left.

"Keeper?" Misery began, her voice low as to not be heard by the others, "I'm not sure how much you know of Kirkwall, but it will be very dangerous for Merrill. Mages outside the Circle are hunted vigorously by the templars. It will be hard for her to avoid detection, and if her blood magic is discovered they will kill her."

"I know," Marethari replied softly. "However, it is the path she has chosen."

Misery could see the sorrow in the old woman's eyes, which was genuine despite her misleading statement. The path her First had chosen was pursuing ancient knowledge best left forgotten, creating a danger both to herself and her clan in the process. Going to Kirkwall was merely the consequence of that choice, as it was Marethari's decision to send Merrill away for her own good, as well as for the good of the clan as a whole.

Misery sighed. "I… I have a great deal of experience keeping mages safe. Most of my life has been spent doing just that. I will… do what I can for Merrill."

Marethari studied the girl's face, and allowed herself a small measure of comfort at the sincerity she perceived. The keeper had already sensed that two of girl's companions were mages, including the one that plainly was her sister. Perhaps this wouldn't go as badly as she feared.

"Ma serannas. You have my gratitude."

The younger woman nodded. "If you don't object to our presence, I'd like to wait until tomorrow morning to leave. Yesterday was difficult and there were injuries suffered that would benefit from a day of rest."

"Ma nuvenin." Seeing the girl's bemused expression, she quickly translated, "As you wish." A moment later she added, "Now I have something I must attend to, however, I would speak with you again tomorrow before you depart." With that she nodded and the two women parted ways.

-==0==-

The sudden blocking of the warm afternoon sunlight forced Misery to look up from her bow, which she had in her lap and was meticulously cleaning and waxing. She tensed when she recognized the presence in front of her was Junar along with a female elf that appeared to be a hunter as well. A quick glance around told her that Aveline, Merrill, Varric, and Revas were watching closely.

Junar shifted uncomfortably on his feet, making Misery quickly realize that he wasn't here by choice. "The keeper bid me come and apologize for my behavior earlier," he said stiffly. "I am supposed to thank you for the service you carried out for the clan." When the shem didn't reply immediately, he started turning to leave.

Misery raised an eyebrow at that. "Very well, I would hear your apology." If he was being made to apologize, she wasn't going to let him off with that weak effort.

Junar glared back at her. "You just did."

The female elf with him rolled her eyes. "No, you only told her what Keeper said you needed to do. You didn't actually do it."

"Rodha!" he groaned in protest. Misery bit down slightly on her bottom lip to suppress the urge to giggle. Misery suspected the elven girl was rather enjoying Junar's lack of comfort, regardless of what she personally might have thought of the humans. His expression faltered under Rodha's expectant gaze, and with a low growl he acquiesced.

"Thank you for completing the task for Asha'bellanar." He fell into silence.

"And?" Rodha prompted.

"And… and clearing the summit, which the keeper had barred us from doing. I apologize for not showing you the same respect you have shown us." He glanced over at Rodha to see he'd earned a sarcastic smile from her.

Misery nodded. "Thank you. If I might ask, why were you barred from the summit? I only know a few legends of the Dalish, but from the stories I've heard I would not have expected those fiends to give you much trouble."

Rodha interjected before Junar could get started on a rant. "Keeper felt the danger outweighed anything useful we could obtain from higher up the mountain."

"We could have done it!" Junar proclaimed.

"Our keeper is a good keeper," Rodha countered, "she doesn't risk us without purpose." Her eyes flitted over to Merrill briefly before quickly moving back to Junar. "But that is not a topic we need to discuss now."

Junar sighed deeply. Since the discussion had been civil, there was one curiosity he wanted satisfied. "Sh- human… that is a finely crafted elven bow you carry, and I can see that you maintain it well. I take it you are an archer of some merit?"

Misery shrugged. "Some would say." She resisted the urge to smirk at the thought of how she'd actually acquired the Arlathan bow.

"Yes, well… if that is the case, I would seek to test my skill against yours."

The female rogue raised an eyebrow questioningly. "To what end?" She was a little worried as to where this was going.

"We hunters compete against each other in training. I am not the fastest shot among the hunters, but I am the most accurate. I am curious to measure myself against an outsider that has earned the respect of our keeper."

"It would be a _friendly_ competition? Nothing bad will happen to me or my companions should I manage to win?"

"We have no tolerance for cheating. That would cause… problems. Other than that, it would be as you say."

Misery nodded. "Very well then, I accept."

-==0==-

A short time later, Misery stood next to Junar in the training area while Rodha explained the rules of the competition. There were three events, each involving taking turns firing at a straw deer from fifteen, thirty, and fifty yards away. Misery's companions were there to watch, and as word spread throughout the camp the number of elves coming over to watch increased rapidly.

Varric sighed and shook his head. This would have been a prime gambling situation, except that most likely none of the individual elves had enough of the common coin to even bother with, and he and Misery had already sold almost all of the excess gear they'd looted to Master Ilen.

The first event was speed based. Time was kept by the old hunter who normally filled this role during the training competitions. He started with his arm hanging at his side, and then raised it straight over his head before bringing it back down and slapping his thigh. Each tick he would shout out the count, with the competitors getting 100 ticks at each distance to fire as many arrows as they could. Head and neck shots were worth two points each, body and leg shots one point each.

Per Dalish custom, the timekeeper stood with his back to the competition and was not told the order the participants would go in. That way no accusation could be made that the count was sped up or slowed down to benefit or hinder a particular contestant.

The second event was accuracy based, with each contestant getting five shots from each distance. A three inch circle in the center of the body marked the target, with the closest cumulative distance from the center winning. A shot missing the target altogether was given a flat distance of ten inches.

The third event combined speed and accuracy. Each competitor began with their bow on their back and had to run from a starting line next to the straw deer to the fifteen yard mark, from there drawing their bow and shooting a single arrow, then running back to touch the start line. Then they repeated the process at the thirty and fifty yard marks, and then descended by doing the fifty again followed by the thirty and finally the fifteen yard mark. Rodha was given the task of shouting 'start' and 'stop' to notify the timekeeper, who again had his back turned to the action.

The scoring was the same as the second event, with the added twist that the one slowest to complete the course was penalized by having an inch added to their cumulative distance for each tick behind they finished.

Misery immediately realized she was at a significant disadvantage. Off the top of her head she guessed the last time she'd even taken a shot from fifty yards was during the annual Lothering Harvest Faire almost two years earlier. She doubted she'd taken a shot over twenty yards since arriving in Kirkwall.

In the speed event, she made up for her deficiency in accuracy at thirty and fifty yards with volume. She scored heavily from the fifteen yard mark, building a large early lead by getting off almost twice as many shots as Junar. She managed to break even with him at thirty yards, where her volume and his accuracy cancelled each other out. Junar destroyed her at the fifty yard mark, but because of his slower release it wasn't enough to overcome her early advantage and Misery was declared the winner of the event.

In the accuracy event, both of them were perfect from fifteen yards. Junar built a small advantage at thirty yards before once again demolishing her at fifty yards to win the event.

In the combination event, Junar raced smoothly through the course and finished with a cumulative distance of 22" for the six shots. Misery managed a cumulative distance of 39", once again suffering at the fifty yard mark, where she missed both shots. However, she shaved eighteen ticks off his course time. That caused Junar's adjusted distance to be 40" and gave Misery both the event and the overall at two events to one.

The rogue went up to the elf and offered a conciliatory handshake. Inwardly she was gloating, but she was being careful not to upset the fragile peace.

"Your accuracy is truly impressive. I couldn't touch you at long range," she said sincerely.

Junar grunted. His pride was clearly wounded anyway at losing. He also knew his clanmates would taunt him mercilessly later for losing to the shem. "I must learn to shoot faster," he grumbled.

"Maybe, maybe not," she said with a shrug.

"What do you mean?"

"I've hunted and I've done battle, and they're not the same. When you hunt, you are catching your prey by surprise. You might only get one shot at it so accuracy is the top priority. The difference in battle is that your targets are trying to kill you just as much as you are them. You don't have the luxury of holding back the shot until the conditions are just right, or of taking the time to concentrate on your form and breathing. Reflex and muscle memory have to take over to a large degree. Obviously being fast is worthless if you can't hit anything, so it is necessary to find a proper balance."

Misery shook her head slightly and continued, "My point though is that increasing your firing speed is only relevant if it has a purpose to you as a hunter. Training competitions are a good way of measuring where you are and any progress you've made, but that's all they are. You don't need to be able to fire twenty arrows a minute or run back and forth between shots to hunt game for your clan."

Junar nodded slowly. As much as he loathed admitting it, there was wisdom in the shem's words. And he realized that maybe he could see why the keeper respected this girl.

"Do the Dalish hunt at such a long range?" Misery asked while gesturing to the fifty yard mark, genuinely curious. "I don't think I've ever shot from that far away while hunting or in battle. That's obvious though, since I did well enough at the short and medium distances, but fell apart at the long distance."

"Not really," Junar admitted. "We practice from that range in order to improve our accuracy at normal hunting distances. When you are comfortable shooting from that distance," he said while pointing to the fifty yard mark, "it makes shooting from there not seem so far away," he concluded while pointing to the thirty yard mark. "You extend your limits by exceeding them."

It was Misery's turn to nod in understanding. She smiled slightly at the thought that she'd unintentionally managed to find common ground with the hunter. As poorly as much of her experience with the Dalish had gone, in the end it actually wasn't terrible.

With an awkward silence settling in and most of the crowd having already dissipated following the conclusion of the match, Junar quickly excused himself and left the training area with Rodha. Misery rejoined her companions and began walking back to their little corner of the camp.

"Good thinking, Hawke," Varric said with a chuckle.

"What's that?"

"Playing it close. Probably would've caused even more ruffled feathers had you buried the guy."

She smirked. "I was honestly bad at the longest distance. The only times I've ever shot from fifty yards were practicing for and participating in the annual Lothering Harvest Faire archery competitions. And the last one was two years ago."

"I'm just glad she didn't rub winning in his face like I expected her to," Aveline remarked dryly. "I know I would've been sorely tempted to."

"Me too…" Merrill admitted from the back.

"No kidding…" Bethany added.

Anders grinned. "So I wasn't the only one who saw that competition ending with us being immediately run out of here?"

"Hey! I can be diplomatic!" Misery replied indignantly. "I can!" she exclaimed when the only response she got was laughter.

"I hate you all," she pouted, drawing even more laughter.

-==0==-

Keeper Marethari smiled gently at the approaching group. They were geared up, clearly preparing to start the journey back to Kirkwall. She looked upon each of them before her eyes finally settled on her soon to be former First. Merrill was visibly tense, and the keeper couldn't help the hope that welled up inside, hope that the girl was having doubts and could be persuaded to give up this fool's quest of hers.

"It is not too late for you to change your mind, Da'len," Marethari said. "You need not do this."

Merrill's lips tightened. Her emotions were a swirling vortex. The prospect of leaving the clan was both frightening and exhilarating. The circumstances were positive in the sense that she felt mostly accepted by these outsiders. She realized that she had felt more companionship in the couple of days with them than she'd felt in the previous year with her people.

The latter was part of the negative side, along with the fact that even if the keeper was presenting the choice in terms of not leaving the clan, what she really meant was that Merrill could give up her attempts to restore the Eluvian, the ancient mirror that was once a means of long distance communication and travel in the days of Arlathan.

Marethari had condemned the magical mirror after coming in contact with it in the ancient ruins near their most recent Fereldan camp resulted in the death of Tamlen, one of Merrill's friends in the clan. That condemnation coupled with Merrill's persistence in trying to unlock the mirror's secrets led to the clan slowly turning on her, and the situation deteriorated to open hostility in some cases.

It had been nearly a season since Marethari pulled her First aside and told her that she'd be sent away with the next outsider that passed through their camp and was willing to take her should she not cease her folly. The old keeper thought that threat would put an end to it, but she underestimated the girl's resolve. If anything, it made Merrill dig her heels in further. When Merrill confided the situation to one of her few remaining friends and that person leaked the secret, it didn't take long before everyone knew.

The anger that sparked only made Merrill even more doggedly determined to restore the Eluvian. She'd never reflect on it long enough to realize and accept the truth, but that's also when she took the last step towards losing herself. The arguments she used to justify herself never changed, however, her heart changed. What began from pride in her people and their heritage distorted into her own individual pride. Restoring the Eluvian for the good of the Dalish people became overshadowed by her desire to show everyone that she was _right_.

Merrill blinked as she realized she'd become lost in thought and hadn't responded to the keeper. She sighed. "Dareth shiral, Keeper," she said simply, though her tone carried an undercurrent of bitterness in her farewell. She turned to Misery. "I am ready to depart."

The keeper closed her eyes for a brief moment, forcing her expression to remain neutral. There was nothing left to say that hadn't already been said. "Please walk with me," she said to Misery. "I have something to give you before you go."

Marethari led the group over to Master Ilen's workshop. "I trust it is ready?" she asked.

Ilen frowned. "Yes, Keeper," he grumbled in resignation, turning away momentarily to retrieve his latest creation. "Here," he said curtly while handing over what appeared to be an ironbark glaive – a roughly four foot pole with an eighteen inch single-edged blade carved on to one end, and the other end sharpened to a spear-like point. The bluish tinge to the wood gave the weapon a regality to go with its otherwise wicked appearance.

He wasn't at all happy with the keeper for making him cut so heavily into his fresh stock of ironbark. He fully intended to send a group of hunters after more of it now that the path was open and before the summit became re-infested.

Marethari accepted the pole and inspected it, finally nodding in satisfaction. "Your work is admirable, as always," she remarked before turning to her apprentice. "This is for you, Da'len."

Merrill's questioning expression only partially changed when she placed her hands on it. Despite the appearance of a traditional weapon, it would serve as a powerful focus for a mage's magic.

"But I already have a staff?" she half stated half asked in confusion.

Varric whistled in astonishment. "That's a mage staff? Never would have guessed."

"I think that is the point," Misery suggested.

Marethari nodded. "I know your staff was a gift sent by your parents when you reached the age of majority, however, it marks you as a wielder of magic. That must remain unknown in the city. You know of the Chantry and what is done when a mage is discovered."

"She is right," Bethany said softly. "It's for that reason my staff doesn't look like something a mage would carry and why I don't wear traditional mage robes." With a grin she added, "I'm not nearly as brave as Anders is to run around advertising what I am."

While the former Grey Warden tried to appear indignant, Merrill merely nodded numbly. She could accept that, however, she hadn't been mentally prepared to leave behind the only physical reminder of her parents that she had. Still, she knew she wasn't really being given a choice, and fought to keep the sudden sadness she felt from overwhelming her.

"Ma serannas," she mumbled, taking the staff from her back and handing it to the keeper before securing this new staff in its place.

Misery observed Marethari pulling an all too familiar looking whitewood amulet from a pouch. The keeper smiled gently at the expression of consternation forming on the girl's face as she handed over the amulet. The rogue was running her fingertips warily over the faint blue lines of the pattern carved into the surface of the amulet, feeling magic lightly radiating from it when Marethari spoke.

"It is not what you think, Child. It will no longer encumber your soul, but help you instead to endure."

Misery nodded slowly. She stared quietly at the amulet for several moments, lost in thought. She noted that the cheap leather cord she'd replaced the broken chain with had in turn been replaced by a spiral braided hemp cord dyed midnight green. It was quite beautiful. She'd never felt anything from the amulet in the past, and couldn't help but wonder what type of magic it was she was feeling now. If Misery had to describe it, she would say it was part soothing, part fortifying.

"Endure…" Misery whispered softly while slipping the cord over her head. "How do you say that in elven?"

"Suledin."

"Suledin," Misery echoed. "I believe I shall call the amulet that. Ma serannas, Keeper."

Marethari nodded. "Dareth shiral," she said, wishing them a safe journey.

"Keeper?" Bethany asked. "Do you know where you will go next now that Flemeth's task is done? I mean, if Merrill does decide she wants to come back to the clan, will we be able to find you?"

"I suspect we will be here for some time to come. There are other things that must come to pass before we can move on."

When it became apparent that the keeper wasn't going to elaborate on those cryptic words, Misery said goodbye and motioned for the others to follow. She wasn't particularly ready to get back to Uncle Gamlen's house, but she was definitely ready to get away from the overbearing presence of so many critical eyes closely scrutinizing her every move.


	13. Of Social Faux Pas

Two weeks had passed since Misery and company returned to Kirkwall from their adventures on Sundermount. Throughout the journey and then in the days that followed, it became more and more apparent that everyone was following the raven haired rogue's lead. That was true even of Fenris and Isabela, neither of whom had known her long. She found it both puzzling and amusing.

After all, she didn't think most of them had any real reason to follow her around doing what she told them and helping her make money. Didn't they have anything better to do with their time? It wasn't like she was paying them beyond a share of whatever loot they obtained. And she knew some of them didn't exactly like her either. Not that she cared. They were helping her and that was all that mattered.

Misery realized that she was drawing on the experience she'd gained in Athenril's service. Like the elf, she was spending as much time on the administrative tasks of obtaining jobs, delegating them, and following up on receiving payment as she was actually working jobs. The thought crossed her mind that she needed to keep her little group from growing much, if any, larger. She didn't want this to get to the point where groups like the Coterie took notice.

This day had been rather typical. She was burning a lot of midnight oil these days, leaving her fighting through fatigue during the day. As a result, she'd delegated one job to Isabela, Fenris, and Varric. They went to the docks to check into missing cargo for a smuggler friend of Isabela's named Martin, who lost the cargo when his ship was attacked and sunk by raiders. They recovered the cargo, which turned out to be a few crates of illegal poisons, but not without having to fight through the raiders in their unregistered warehouse. Isabela made sure to take the keys so they could go back and clean the place out of anything valuable.

Another job was delegated to Bethany, Anders, and Revas. The three of them ran around Kirkwall returning various lost possessions to their owners. Courier missions such as these were not the most exciting, but invariably the reward made them worthwhile. And Misery really preferred to keep Bethany occupied with productive but non-violent tasks anyway.

The previous night, Misery, Revas, and Varric helped Aveline follow up on her suspicion that Guard-Captain Jeven was involved in some shady dealings. She'd learned that a fellow guard named Brennan was carrying a suspiciously heavy satchel at the time they'd stopped the ambush near Sundermount. That led to another guardsman, Donnic, carrying the satchel into Lowtown at night. They trailed Donnic's route and intervened when he came under attack.

After opening the satchel and discovering the proof that Jeven was abusing his position and involved in illegal activities, Misery accompanied Aveline earlier this day to present the evidence to the Viscount's seneschal, a surly and exceedingly arrogant man named Bran. With his backing, Jeven was arrested and removed from his position. In reward for her service to Kirkwall, Aveline was named Captain of the Guard-in-training. In other words, she now had the title, but the Viscount's office would provide significant oversight while she got up to speed in her new role.

It was now late into the evening, and most of the group was sitting around a table at the Hanged Man. Absent were Aveline, who was undoubtedly in her new office studying until she fell asleep at her desk, and Merrill, who was still adjusting to life as a city elf and hadn't joined in on the group's activities around Kirkwall yet.

This gathering began as a means for everyone to update Misery about their jobs and had progressed from there to games of Wicked Grace and flowing ale.

"Norah!" Misery called out, raising her hand for another. Isabela raised her hand as well.

The barmaid brought over a couple of more mugs, setting them down in place of the empties. "Girl, you need to slow down," she said to Misery in amusement. "You're gonna need someone to carry you outta here at the rate you're going."

"Na my faul…" the fair-skinned rogue slurred before taking two quick drinks and flashing a slight glare at Varric, who smiled innocently. Norah shrugged and walked off.

Bethany looked over at her quizzically. "Just why exactly _are _you drinking so heavily, anyway?" Misery waved her hand dismissively in response.

"So, Blondie, what were you saying?" Varric asked, redirecting the conversation.

Anders shrugged. "Just that Knight-Commander Meredith has more real power in this city than the Viscount does. He does nothing to oppose her abuse. The Circle in Ferelden is like a resort compared to how mages live here."

Varric and Fenris each took a drink while Varric nodded in response.

Anders continued, "Mages are made tranquil simply for speaking out against their treatment."

Varric and Fenris each casually took another drink.

"The templars hold that over them, using the threat of tranquility as a weapon to bludgeon mages into submission."

Just after Misery and Isabela each took drinks, Varric and Fenris took drinks.

Anders growled. "Bloody templars! To the Void with them!"

A brief groan escaped from Misery's lips, but she raised her mug and took another drink while Isabela did the same.

The former Grey Warden stared at Misery. "Is something wrong?" he asked, his irritation still high from his rant.

She waved her hand again before resting her forehead in the palm of her hand. She was perspiring and things were becoming increasingly fuzzy. Stubbornness was overruling common sense at this point.

Bethany cocked an eyebrow in suspicion. She'd started paying attention to her sister's drinking pattern after Norah pointed out how much she was drinking, and was beginning to have a fairly good idea what was going on. And she was not happy about it. She leaned over and whispered into her sister's ear.

"Dunno wha yer talkin' 'bout," Misery mumbled out loud.

"Really, now?" the mage asked sarcastically. She leaned to her other side and whispered into Anders' ear.

His eyes opened wide at first, then narrowed in anger. He glared at Misery. "Templar, templar, templar."

Misery glared back but silently joined Isabela in taking three short drinks.

"Mage, mage, mage," Anders said next.

Varric and Fenris raised their mugs.

Anders stood up from his chair and slammed his hands on the table. "I can't believe you guys!"

Varric chuckled. "Don't get your bloomers in a twist, Blondie. It was all in good fun."

"The oppression of mages is _fun_?" he asked incredulously.

"No, but 'The Mage-Templar Conflict' was a good drinking game… while it lasted," the dwarf answered. "I guess we can't play anymore now that you know about it."

Isabela laughed at Anders' crabby expression. "Come on, even you have to admit it's damn funny that you said 'templar' enough times tonight to do _that _to her." She gestured to Misery, who was clearly wasted.

Bethany felt a twinge of concern prick at her consciousness as Anders continued to fume and showed no signs of calming down. She stood up and hooked her arm around his. "Come on, let's go," she said softly. "Revas and I will walk you to the Darktown lift."

The female mage glared briefly at her sister before shifting her eyes to Varric. "Take care of her." The clipped tone made it clear she wasn't asking. Without waiting for a response, she tugged on her boyfriend's arm and the pair left with Revas in tow.

Varric exhaled audibly. "Guess it's a good thing they didn't figure out we've been playing it all week."

Isabela shook her head. "That boy is entirely too uptight. He seriously needs to get laid."

Misery groaned again but joined Varric and Fenris in raising her mug to take a drink.

The Rivaini grinned wickedly. "Oooh, there's a drinking game for me too? What are the rules? I wanna play too!"

Varric sighed. He liked his drinking games, and losing two of them in one night was disappointing. "'The Pirate's Booty'," he explained, "Everyone drinks when you make a sexual innuendo."

Isabela laughed. Gesturing to Misery, who had just laid her head down on the table, she asked, "Are you _trying _to get her to drink herself to death? Surely you've noticed by now she's a lightweight?"

"And too stubborn to know when to give up," Fenris muttered. "I suppose it is time for me to go as well. You know where to find me should you need me."

-==0==-

After Fenris left, Isabela and Varric exchanged glances.

"What are you going to do with her?" Isabela asked. Misery had fallen asleep with her head on the table.

Varric frowned. "No way I can get her home like this. Can she crash in your room?"

"My room is small, but I suppose I could share my bed with her."

The dwarf couldn't tell if she was being serious or not. "Ummm… my place might be a better option. I have a couch."

Isabela shrugged and moved to the side of the other female. "Misery, let's go, it's time for beddie-bye," she said playfully while jostling the girl awake.

Varric and Isabela managed to awkwardly guide the drunken rogue up the stairs and into Varric's suite, with Misery holding on to the shorter woman by the neck and the much shorter dwarf by his head.

"Wh-where do you want h-her…" Isabela grunted. "The couch?"

"On the bed."

After dumping Misery unceremoniously on the bed, he and Isabela laughed breathlessly together at the sight of the exceedingly drunk girl.

"Sure, _you _bed her instead," Isabela said with a wicked grin.

Varric rolled his eyes. "I'm taking the couch, Rivaini." He frowned at Misery already closing her bloodshot eyes and falling asleep on his bed, realizing he'd better get something for her to throw up in if necessary.

After thinking about it for a moment, he went to retrieve the waste bin from his small washroom. As he returned, his eyes opened wide in shock at the sight of Isabela leaning over and unbuckling Misery's cuirass. She'd already removed her boots.

"Hey! What in the Void are you doing?"

Isabela glanced back with a mischievous smile. "Seeing what she looks like naked, of course. Wanna bet on whether or not she landscapes the garden?"

Varric's jaw dropped. "Are you crazy? You can't do that! Do you know what she will do if she finds out?"

Isabela cackled gleefully at his reaction. "Relax… I'm just rattling your cage."

Her expression turned matter-of-fact as she continued her work. "Dangerous or not, I wouldn't take advantage of anyone passed out drunk like this. Look, you can feel her face and see she's overheating. She has an undershirt on, so removing her leathers to make her more comfortable isn't going to violate her modesty." With a wink she added, "And besides, I'll have more fun seducing her properly."

"Whatever… you get the couch then. I'll take the easy chair."

"Why?"

Varric shook his head. "You _are _crazy if you think Hawke is going to wake up in my bed half dressed and me here alone with her. You're staying too."

"How fun, a sleepover…" she replied sarcastically. "I knew I should have gone home with the broody elf…" When Varric's stern expression didn't falter, she sighed. "Fine…"

-==0==-

Misery moaned as consciousness returned and she opened her eyes. She was thankful the room was dark. Her head was pounding and her stomach was very queasy, and any more than a modicum of light would have exacerbated both. As awareness began to kick in and her eyes slowly adjusted to the dark, she tensed in realization that she didn't immediately know where she was or how she got here.

She reached for one of the knives she wore above her hips, only to be dismayed at finding them missing along with the upper portion of her armor. Her anxiety increased as she moved her hands across her body and discovered that all of her armor had been removed. She had on only the sleeveless linen undershirt and knee-length linen breeches she wore under her armor.

The rogue forced her mind to focus. She didn't know if she was alone and didn't want to draw attention to herself right away if she wasn't. She turned her head slowly and tried to make out her surroundings. Misery frowned at the recognition of her armor and weapons lying on the floor near the bed.

_Did I take them off? Where am I and what happened?_

As her eyes adjusted more, she could see the shadow of a short figure sitting in a chair maybe a dozen feet away. Glancing around at the other features of the room she could make out, recognition finally took hold and she realized where she was. However, she still had no idea why she was here.

Racking her brain, she remembered feeling really fuzzy from that damned drinking game where Varric kept intentionally provoking Anders to talk about mages and templars. She vaguely recalled Anders blowing up about it and leaving with Bethany, and Isabela and Varric dragging her up some stairs at some point.

Misery dangled her legs over the side and carefully sat up on the edge of the bed. She took long deep breaths with her face in her hands, trying to subdue the nausea. Once she managed that, she slowly stood up and padded across the floor in her bare feet. Glancing over at Varric, who was obviously asleep, she initially grinned at the sight of him in a completely uncomfortable looking position and dressed only in a pair of trousers. She briefly wondered why he wasn't sleeping on the unoccupied couch.

She sighed, wishing her body and mind didn't feel so out of sorts. _That's the last time he talks me into drinking games…_

The rogue tensed at the sound of rustling outside the closed door to Varric's suite. When it became apparent that whoever was outside was working the door handle, she stepped back to her discarded equipment.

Gritting her teeth at the vertigo that threatened to overwhelm her when she bent down to pick up a knife, she waited for it to pass and then stalked forward.

The loud _clunk_ followed by a curse outside the door jerked Varric awake. His eyes were immediately drawn to the female standing a few feet away and moving towards him with a knife in her hand. A glance at the empty couch and back to Misery were all it took for him to leap to the conclusion that she'd woken up, misinterpreted the situation, and was coming after him.

Impulsively he leaned forward and dove at her legs, tackling her to the ground. But even being out of sorts, instincts kicked in and she rolled with the dwarf's momentum and ended up on top of him, grabbing and yanking a fistful of chest hair while pressing the knife to his throat. Varric yelped in pain.

"Misery, I swear… _nothing_ happened," he said hoarsely, grimacing from having a patch of hair forcibly removed. "Isabela took your armor off so you'd be more comfortable. That's it. I _swear. _Please believe me."

"I believe you…" she whispered. "But why did you try to attack me just now?"

The door to Varric's suite slowly creaked open. From the light in the hallway, Misery could see it was Isabela.

The Rivaini's eyes widened momentarily at the sight of Hawke holding a knife to Varric's throat. "I'm guessing that's not foreplay…"

"Rivaini! Where have you been?" Varric asked incredulously, still unable to turn his head towards the door as Misery hadn't backed off yet.

Isabela scoffed. "What can I say? Between her snoring and your rock hard couch, I wasn't getting any sleep. So I went downstairs for a snack. I dropped the damned mug though trying to get the door open with my hands full."

Misery finally withdrew the knife and stood up, almost smirking at Varric's audible sigh of relief. She might have if she wasn't feeling so horrendous.

Varric winced as he rubbed his hand over the newly acquired bald patch on his chest. That was going to crimp his style until it grew back.

When no one spoke up, Isabela shrugged. "Since you obviously don't need me anymore, I'm going to catch a few hours of sleep in my own bed. If you need me for anything, don't knock until lunchtime."

-==0==-

As he stepped outside into the daylight, Varric raised an eyebrow quizzically at Misery, who was waiting for him outside the Hanged Man. "What are you doing with that thing?"

"House warming gift," she answered before giggling. It was obvious that she was amused with herself.

"_That_? I'm just going to come out and say it… that's ridiculous."

"Pfft… cut me some slack, I didn't think about taking Merrill anything until after you said you wanted to go over there. Besides, picturing her confused expression is cracking me up."

Varric shook his head. "You've got one twisted sense of humor. And Corff is going to be pissed when he notices that missing."

"Yeah? So what are _you _bringing then?"

"Ummm…" He patted his pockets while trying to come up with something. "I… uhhh… have a ball of string?"

Misery smirked. "Awesome… you can tell her to tie one end to her door when she leaves the house, that way she can always find her way back home."

"Don't put it past me, Hawke."

-==0==-

Merrill's face lit up in excitement when she opened the door to find Misery and Varric standing outside. "Come in!"

After letting the pair into her small residence, she smiled nervously. "I-I was hoping you would come visit, but I didn't know. I mean, I know you are busy and all, but it has been a couple of weeks, so I wasn't sure. And… I'm rambling, sorry. C-can I get you anything to drink? I have… water."

Varric chuckled. "Relax, Daisy. Time got away from us a bit, that's all. How have you been?"

The elf shrugged. "The city is so busy. Everything seems to happen here all at once. How does anyone ever keep it straight?"

Misery nodded in understanding. "It took me awhile to get used to it too," she admitted. Never having lived in a village larger than Lothering prior to coming to Kirkwall, she'd had her own adjustment period where she felt a bit overwhelmed at times.

"Getting homesick?" Varric asked.

Merrill shook her head. "Not really. There are things I miss though. Hahren Paivel's stories, the creaking of the aravels in the breeze, the quiet… everything is so noisy here, it's all so busy and confusing. I get lost so very easily. I know I will adjust to Kirkwall in time, but even the elves here are nothing like my clan."

Varric frowned briefly, thinking how lonely the elf sounded. He was going to have to talk to Misery about incorporating Merrill into their little group, even if he knew Anders was uncomfortable around her and that Fenris would likely have a conniption if he ever found out about her blood magic. His thoughts were interrupted though by Misery speaking.

"By the way, this is for you, a house warming gift if you will," Misery added with a slight grin.

Merrill stared curiously at the sign the female rogue was standing up by the door. "Gather Your Party?" she asked in bewilderment.

Misery laughed. "Whenever you get lonely, just look over at the sign and imagine people waiting to see you."

"Ummm… o-okay. M-ma serannas."

"You don't have to humor her, Daisy. I already told her how ridiculous bringing the sign was," Varric said with a grin.

"Says the dwarf who brought a ball of string," Misery countered.

Varric coughed and blushed slightly. "Yeah, well…" he began as he pulled it from his pocket, "it… it's to… help keep her from getting lost. Yeah…"

If possible, Merrill looked even more bewildered, causing Misery to giggle giddily.

Varric sighed. His fellow rogue either wasn't picking up on Merrill's discomfort at the humor hitting too close to home or she didn't care. "Daisy, how about you come with us today? We're going up to Hightown for a couple of things and then back to the Hanged Man later on."

Misery's expression quickly turned serious at that suggestion. "Varric, we will be going to the Gallows and the Chantry. I don't think that's a good part of town for Merrill to be in. There will be many templars around."

"I understand the need to keep my magic hidden, it will not be a problem," Merrill replied quickly. "Even Dalish keepers do not practice magic openly in most cases."

Misery bit her bottom lip in consternation but finally relented. "Very well… just follow our lead and make sure no one figures out you're a mage."

Merrill nodded while smiling enthusiastically. Even if her life among the Dalish had deteriorated to the point where she often felt like an outsider amidst her own people, she'd never felt as utterly alone as she had since coming to Kirkwall. Merrill had been comfortable enough with Misery and most of her companions during their time together that she'd hoped they would be her friends. But as more and more days passed with no one coming to visit, doubt and depression had seeped in. So she was ecstatic just to be invited to hang around them.

-==0==-

Misery nearly froze as they stepped outside into alienage. Standing not fifty feet from Merrill's door was a templar speaking with an elven woman. The rogue whispered a warning that only Varric and Merrill could hear before casually sauntering to within earshot. If possible, she wanted to know what this templar was looking for without making herself known to him.

She heard enough of the conversation to get the gist of the situation. Apparently the woman's son was an apostate, had gone missing, and she was concerned enough for his safety to contact the templars for help. Misery shook her head at the foolishness of the woman.

As soon as the templar left, Merrill trotted over to the woman, who was sobbing with her face in her hands. "Arianni? What did that templar want? Did they find out about Feynriel?"

The older woman looked up. "Oh, Merrill… I contacted Ser Thrask, that templar. I had heard he was sympathetic towards mages and I thought he could help my boy. Feynriel found out and has disappeared. He thinks I have betrayed him."

Merrill turned to her companions. "This is Arianni. She is one of the People, though not of my clan. She lives here with her son Feynriel."

"He's all I have," Arianni explained. "I have kept him hidden from the Circle, but his connection to the Fade… it gives him nightmares. He dreams of demons, they speak in his mind. I fear he is a danger to himself and… I would rather lose him to the Circle than to himself."

Misery stared skeptically at Arianni. "Did you tell this Ser Thrask the same thing?"

"I did… I only wanted my boy to receive help…"

Varric couldn't miss the scowl that was forming on his fellow rogue's face. "Whatcha thinking, Hawke?"

"That Feynriel was right to run."

Merrill nodded in agreement. "He ought to have his own life, not bound in the shackles of the Circle."

Varric frowned. "I don't know, it sounds like the kid has issues that aren't going to be solved hiding out in the alienage."

"When they find out he's struggling against demons, they will _help _him by severing his connection to the Fade," Misery stated knowingly.

Arianni was puzzled. "Is that so wrong? Without that connection he would be safe from the demons, no? His mind would be at peace."

Misery suspected that Ser Thrask had given a very misleading impression of the Rite of Tranquility, but she didn't care enough to educate the elf. She waved her hand while saying, "Well, good luck on your search," and began to walk off.

"Can you help me find him?" Arianni asked of Merrill.

"I-I don't know what I can do, Arianni," she lamented. "I can hardly leave the alienage without getting lost."

Varric sighed. He wasn't any more excited than Misery at getting involved, but he could see it written all over Merrill's face that she wanted to help but felt powerless to do so.

"Do you have any idea where Feynriel might have gone?" he asked.

"I don't know…" Arianni admitted. "Ser Thrask has been looking for him as well, so if you speak with him in the Gallows he can maybe tell you what ground he has already covered. Also… Feynriel's father, Vincento, is a merchant in the Lowtown Bazaar. Feynriel might have sought him out."

Varric raised an eyebrow curiously. "I don't know of any elven merchants in the Bazaar."

Arianni bowed her head as if in shame. "Vincento is not an elf. He is a traveling Antivan merchant that I foolishly left my clan for. Once I was with child he no longer wanted anything to do with me. I have written him in the past, but he never accepted Feynriel as his son."

Misery, who had slunk back to the group earlier when no one followed her, shook her head. "If you're that worried about Feynriel and think his father might know something, why haven't you already gone and spoken with him?" _Can't anyone in this town do anything for themselves?_

"I… I do not think he would speak with me about Feynriel."

Varric shrugged. "We're going to be in the Gallows today anyway, so we can see what the templar knows." At the sight of Misery's disapproving glare he added, "Maybe Sunshine and Blondie can help Daisy follow up on any leads. I'm sure the two of them would be interested in helping the kid out."

Misery merely nodded and began to walk off again. She understood his underlying point, that the trio of apostates might know how Feynriel could protect himself from the demons without having to go to the Circle. She still didn't care, but if the others wanted to spend their time looking for the kid then whatever.

-==0==-

"Think we'll get out of here without killing anyone this time?" Varric asked sarcastically as they climbed the steps to the Chantry.

"Wh-what?" Merrill asked, suddenly concerned.

"Ignore him," Misery said with a smirk. "We are just going in to speak with a brother we've finished a job for. Nothing to it."

"Famous last words," Varric muttered half under his breath while reaching for the door.

As they walked into the entrance hall, Merrill shook her head slightly. "For some reason I am nervous all of a sudden."

Misery sighed. "Look at what you started, Varric. You have her worried that something is going to happen."

"Can you really blame me for that? I mean, the odds are pretty high on some Andraste fondling going on while we're here."

A sharp gasp came from nearby. "Sacrilege! How dare you speak of the blessed Andraste in that manner!"

Varric immediately blushed under the heavy glare of the Chantry mother who had overheard his statement. "I-I," he stuttered.

"I know, can you believe it?" Misery exclaimed to the mother, feigning innocence. "I simply cannot take him anywhere without him misbehaving or saying something inappropriate. I'll see that he leaves a donation to atone for his sin against the Maker."

The mother nodded curtly before storming away with her head held high.

Varric shook his head at Misery trying to stifle the giggles. "Hey, Hawke?" he began while holding his hand up to his ear as if he was listening for something. "Do you hear that rumbling sound?"

"Nope, sure don't."

"I don't hear anything either," Merrill added.

"Huh… guess it's just me then that hears the sound of the cart backing up over me," he grumbled.

-==0==-

Misery finally tracked down Sebastian, who was standing on the balcony overlooking the main room with Grand Cleric Elthina. The grand cleric was none too pleased that someone had taken up Sebastian's bounty. She felt that the former prince of Starkhaven needed to let go of his anger for the murder of his family rather than persisting in his pursuit of revenge. But despite her position of authority, Sebastian remained defiant and gladly paid Hawke for eliminating the Flint Company mercenary group.

After Sebastian walked away, Elthina took the opportunity to voice her disapproval to Misery.

"Aiding Sebastian's desire for revenge did him no favors."

Misery shrugged. "It was a paying job. The cause meant nothing to me."

"I see…" Elthina said stiffly. "I am Elthina, grand cleric of Kirkwall. I believe you are new to our city?"

"Not really, I came here from Ferelden more than a year ago."

"Ahhh, yes… it was a near thing, what happened in Ferelden. But in the end the Maker stepped in."

Misery raised an eyebrow curiously. "That's rather blasphemous, don't you think?"

Varric's mouth dropped open in disbelief at what the rogue just said. He coughed uncomfortably, hoping she'd get the hint.

Elthina's eyes narrowed. "On what grounds do you accuse the _grand cleric_ of blasphemy?"

"Does the Chantry not teach that the Maker abandoned us upon the death of Andraste? That He no longer listens to our prayers, grants us any favor, and so on? How do you reconcile that with the notion that the Maker took an active role in ending the Blight?"

"I do not believe those are mutually exclusive. The Maker may not listen to and grant our individual desires, but He is not unaware of our world. Nor would He allow His creation to be overrun and ruined by the very things he cast down from the Golden City so long ago."

Merrill raised her hand. "Not to interrupt, but I am afraid I don't know what a grand cleric does." Thinking she might have insulted the woman, she tentatively added, "The title sounds important though…"

Elthina's expression softened slightly as she turned her attention to the elf. "Well met, Child. We do not see many of the Dalish in our city."

"Yes, w-well, we tend to be… uncomfortable… around h-humans. The whole Exalted March thing with the loss of our ancestral home did not help. N-not that you personally had anything to do with that, of course."

The grand cleric waved her hand to indicate it was of no concern to her. "A crude analogy, but I suppose you could liken me to one of your people's keepers of lore. My role, however, is more than that. I am part counselor, shepherd, servant, watchman, mother, and steward. The grand cleric must be ever mindful of the Maker's will and see that it is carried out."

Misery fought the urge to scowl at how innocently she was presenting her role. It didn't prevent her from cynically thinking that the hypocrite left off other roles such as _oppressor_.

"Oh! You must stay very busy!" Merrill exclaimed. "I could never keep that many things straight. I suppose that's another reason I would not have made a very good keeper. You remind me of the keeper of my clan though. Except you seem to have held up better with age. I m-mean, I am n-not saying you are old, just that Dalish women are usually more droopy at your age. I… err… that's not really any better, is it? Oh dear, I'm rambling again. Be quiet, Merrill."

Varric's left eye twitched nervously at the elf basically commenting on the grand cleric's chest. He knew she wasn't the most socially adept, but some things should just be obviously off-limits.

Elthina didn't seem to take offense though. "I suppose I should accept that as a compliment then," she said with a gentle smile.

Misery smirked. "Given the Chantry's attitude towards mages, how do you feel about the Maker using one to end the Blight? After all, according to the Chantry, the only good mage is a powerless one."

"A mage ended the Blight?" Merrill asked in surprise.

"An elven mage at that," Misery noted. "And I hear he was even granted a noble title afterwards."

Elthina frowned, the deep lines of age becoming more prominent. "It is unfortunate that mages must be protected from themselves, and the public from their power, but it is what it is. I am not unsympathetic to their plight, however, the Chant is clear that magic exists to serve man and never to rule over him. And it is not my place to comment on the decisions made in Ferelden. If the Divine objects to the situation there, she will intervene."

"Yes, the Canticle of Transfigurations, chapter 1," Misery noted with some disdain in her tone. "I like to read a little further on in that same chapter though. 'All men are the Work of our Maker's hands, from the lowest slaves to the highest kings. Those who bring harm without provocation to the least of His children are hated and accursed by the Maker.' When it comes to mages, bringing harm without provocation is a pretty much the standard operating procedure for Chantry templars."

The grand cleric appeared visibly annoyed. "You would do well to mind the verse following that one. 'Those who bear false witness and work to deceive others, know this: There is but one Truth. All things are known to our Maker and He shall judge their lies.'"

"'Foul and corrupt are you who have taken My gift and turned it against My children'," Misery countered. "Transfigurations 18 is just as much an indictment against the subjugation of mages for simply possessing their Maker given gift as it is against mages who would use that gift to subjugate others."

"I will _not_ be goaded into an argument. Good day, Serah." With that parting shot Elthina nodded her head once and walked off.

-==0==-

"Just what was that about, Hawke?" Varric demanded angrily once they'd stepped outside.

The dwarf huffed when she still hadn't answered by the time they'd reached the bottom of the long stone stairway. He grabbed her by the arm.

"I mean it, start talking!" he demanded.

"I thought they did a remarkable job of cleaning up the blood stains from our last couple of visits. How about you? I suppose I should have complimented the grand cleric on that."

"Dammit, Misery! You know what I'm talking about! You were practically channeling Blondie back there!"

Misery whirled around and pushed Varric back. "That was for my father!" she hissed, keeping her voice low enough not to be overheard. "That bitch was already grand cleric when he was imprisoned here in the Gallows!"

"Do you realize how dangerous it was to bait her like that?"

"I'll give you a guess at how much I care!"

Varric rubbed his face in exasperation. "So you're telling me you don't _care _that she might get suspicious about why you have so much interest in mages and ask Knight-Commander Meredith to investigate?"

When Misery bit her bottom lip but didn't reply right away, he added, "I know you know what I'm getting at."

"Yeah…" she finally said with a long sigh before walking off and silently scolding herself for allowing pettiness to cloud her judgment.

Varric made eye contact with Merrill and shook his head. "And you, Daisy, you can't just say whatever comes to mind. If you're gonna take your social cues from a Hawke, make sure it's Sunshine. Come on, let's go catch up before she finds more trouble."

-==0==-

After talking to Ser Thrask and getting a lead on an ex-templar named Samson that might have helped Feynriel, Misery and her companions wandered towards a corner of the Gallows where some merchant stalls were located. The female rogue had fallen into thought until a merchant calling out shook her from her reverie. She glanced up to see a balding man standing in a stall that appeared rather under stocked.

Seeing the woman's expression, he quickly said, "I apologize for the lack of inventory at the moment. I am expecting more goods to arrive soon. My name is Solivitus, I am an herbalist."

Misery nodded in acknowledgment while glancing over his limited selection. What he had in stock were mainly health related supplies, which she had no need of since she'd recently stocked up on similar items from Elegant's shop in the Lowtown Bazaar. For future reference she noted that his prices were about the same.

"Sorry, nothing here I need at the moment," she replied before turning away.

Solivitus could see how heavily armed the woman and her companions were and instantly made the decision to offer them work. "Hey, if you are interested, there are some resources I am having difficulty obtaining. If you were to collect them for me I would of course pay well."

Misery stopped and turned back around. "Yeah? What exactly are you after?"

Varric grinned at his partner. It wasn't all that long ago that she'd have let an opportunity to make money go by just from being antisocial. He couldn't help but feel like he'd gotten through to her about jobs turning up in all forms, though he didn't think she'd actually admit that.

Solivitus smiled enthusiastically. "The first thing on my list is a dragon fang."

Misery rolled her eyes. _No wonder he is having difficulty._ "Sure, go find and slay a dragon, and then collect its teeth. No problem," she offered dryly before gesturing to indicate he should continue.

"Yes… well, I am also looking for pure ironbark."

"You know anywhere to find that besides the top of Sundermount?" Varric asked.

Solivitus shrugged. "I have heard it can be found along the Wounded Coast, but I do not know more specifically than that."

"What else?" Misery asked, already becoming bored. The resources he was asking for were on the ridiculous side. She knew where to find ironbark, but there was no way she was going back to visit the Dalish anytime soon. And trying to locate, let alone fight a dragon, was just stupid.

"Another thing I am looking for is a silk gland from a giant spider."

Misery couldn't stop the physical reaction she had to that suggestion. Her eyes opened wide, her heart rate increased, and she shuddered.

"Are you okay?" Solivitus asked.

The rogue quickly collected herself and a scowl formed. "Fuck off," she growled, spinning and storming away from the booth.

"Was it something I said?" Solivitus asked Varric in confusion.

Varric couldn't help himself and started laughing. Finally composing himself, he nodded. "Oh yeah, definitely something you said." He waved his hand and began following after Misery, leaving the bewildered merchant to wonder what exactly he'd done to offend the woman.

Merrill cleared her throat lightly. "If it makes you feel any better, I don't really understand her a lot of times either." She then moved quickly to catch up with her companions.

-==0==-

The door to the Hanged Man swung open and Aveline stomped in.

"Bring me a tall mug of ale, Norah! And keep 'em coming!" she demanded while stalking over to the table occupied by Varric, Misery, Bethany, Isabela, and Merrill. She flopped into a chair and slammed her hands on the table.

"Life as the guard-captain not all it's cracked up to be?" Varric asked, his tone laced with mirth.

"It's a little early in the day to be drinking yourself into oblivion," Misery added.

It had been a couple of weeks since Aveline was named Captain of the Guard and since Misery's run in with Grand Cleric Elthina, and the guard-captain was up to her ears in stress in her new position.

Aveline scowled. "'The Shadow' is the bane of my existence these days. Who'd have guessed that bastard could singlehandedly unite a half dozen gangs?"

"Other than having a ridiculous name, what's the problem?" Misery asked. "Sounds like this Shadow character is doing your job for you."

"He's a vigilante killing people unprovoked! And I've got the leaders of these gangs banging on my door nearly every day demanding I put a stop to it, that the city guard protect them. They're being targeted and steadily whittled down. And my guardsmen are complaining about having to take care of all the dead bodies."

"What's wrong with the name 'Shadow'?" Isabela asked. "I think it's rather sexy."

Misery rolled her eyes. "Surely they could have come up with something better. How about 'Night Fury'?"

Varric shook his head. "Nah, that sounds like something you'd name a pet dragon."

"What in the Void does it matter?" Aveline asked incredulously. "The bottom line is I've got a highly efficient killer loose on the streets and the only description anyone has been able to give is that of a cloaked figure disappearing into the shadows. No one knows who he is or what his purpose is."

"Doing the job your guards don't do because they're on the take?" Misery asked pointedly. "Why are you so anxious to protect thugs from having their ability to prey on average citizens hampered?"

Aveline slammed her hands down on the table again. "If guards are not doing their jobs, it needs to be reported to _me_ so _I_ can deal with them! And it is the responsibility of the _Guard_ to bring criminals to justice. No matter how well-meaning this vigilante is, that's all he is. He's no better than the thugs he's murdering."

Bethany sighed. "Aveline, I don't know how much time you spend in Lowtown, but the Shadow is already practically a hero to the people. Everyone talks about how much safer the streets are at night. You actually see people outside at night now, not holed up in their houses afraid to go out. That wasn't the case even a few weeks ago."

"Oh, was it that bad before?" Merrill asked. "I walk between here and the alienage at night and nothing bad has ever happened to me."

Varric grumbled under his breath, "Yeah… and that _nothing_ is costing me a fortune…" He was paying protection money to the larger Lowtown gangs to ensure the elf would be left alone.

Isabela shrugged at the guard-captain. "Sounds like you have your bloomers in a bunch because someone other than your precious guardsmen is getting credit for taking care of the crime problem in Lowtown."

"Shut up, Whore," Aveline growled. She downed the remainder of her drink while waving for another. "Hawke, I need to call in a favor."

"Yeah?"

"I need your help tracking down the Shadow."

"You're serious?" Misery asked.

The guardswoman nodded sternly. "If anyone can find out who it is, it's you. I'll see that you are paid handsomely for it."

Isabela looked over at Misery, whose gaze was now directed towards her own mug. "I'm not one to turn down good coin, but it just doesn't feel right going after the Shadow. Like diddling a sister or something."

"Do you always have to say things like that?" Bethany asked. She shook her head and continued, "I don't like the idea either though. What about you, Varric?"

"Oh, I don't care. I suspect that if Aveline's guard can win back the confidence of the people by, you know, doing their job, the Shadow will go away on their own."

Corff, owner and bartender of the Hanged Man, personally delivered the mug of ale to the red-haired guard, setting it down with a heavy thud. "Yer that new guard-captain, aren't you?"

Aveline looked up wearily. "I am… I take it you have a problem?"

He gestured towards an empty spot by the door. "Some blighter keeps stealin' my sign! I've had two stolen this month and haven't heard nuthin' since reportin' it to the Guard five days ago!"

"What's the name of the guardsman you talked to?" Aveline asked with a sigh of resignation.

"Didn't give one. I'll tell you this though, I'm expectin' a replacement sign day after next, and if that one goes missin' I'm puttin' up fliers offerin' a reward for catchin' the thief. Maybe the Shadow will take care of 'em."

"Right after rescuing a kitten from a tree," Varric commented, sarcastically implying that Corff's problem was beneath the Shadow's notice.

Aveline put her face in her hand and groaned at that suggestion. "I'll see what I can find out, Corff. You have my word."

Satisfied with that, the man nodded and went back to the bar. As soon as he left, Misery began giggling.

"Something funny?" Aveline asked in annoyance.

"Don't worry about the new sign. It won't go anywhere," she answered before giggling again.

Aveline looked up quizzically. "How do you- wait… _you_? Why?"

"House warming gifts," Varric muttered.

"What?"

Misery shrugged playfully. "I took one for Merrill kind of as a joke, and then a certain dwarf gave me a hard time about not having gotten anything for Fenris, so I had to go ahead and take him one too. But I'll stop taking Corff's sign."

Aveline just stared dumbfounded at the rogue, causing Misery's giggle fit to start back up. "What am I going to do with you, Hawke?" she finally asked in frustration.

When Misery only kept giggling in response, the guardswoman shook her head. "That's it. You're definitely helping me find the Shadow. Don't even think of arguing with me about it."

The rogue's mirth faded at the demand and she sighed deeply. Misinterpreting her sister's reaction, Bethany asked, "Varric, you know a lot about what goes on in Kirkwall, do you have any ideas on where to start?"

The dwarf shrugged noncommittally. "The Shadow keeps a pretty low profile. It's gonna take a mistake or wanting to be discovered to find them."

Misery stood up. "Well, I'll let you know if I find out anything. For now though, we're going up to Hightown to see what Athenril wants. She contacted me about another job."

"It'd better not be another bait and switch," Varric grumbled, remembering the last time they did a job Athenril had sent their way.

"Maker her help her if it is," Misery replied darkly.

Aveline nodded. "Be careful. You know my feelings on her."

"I will. I don't trust her either. But if you have time, you mind helping Bethany and Merrill? They're still tracking down a missing boy for a friend of Merrill's. They have a lead in Darktown that they're going to meet up with Anders and check out."

The guardswoman nodded again. "Sure, I can go with them."

"Thank you. Varric, Isabela, and I are going to pick up Revas and head to Hightown."

Bethany stood and put her hand on her sister's shoulder. "Depending on what Athenril has in mind, consider enlisting Fenris to help. I know you don't care much for him, but he'd give your group more balance. And he occupies enough attention in battle to let you work the periphery with your bow."

"You be careful too," Misery said in response while nodding in recognition of Bethany's concern. With a wave of her hand to the others, she continued, "Let's go."


	14. Sacrifices and Revenge Unrequited

**AN: Disclaimer! This chapter has a NSFW scene with *dubious consent* - I've clearly marked the start of that section in the text, so if you'd rather not read it you'll easily be able to skip over the scene without having to worry about getting into it accidentally.**

* * *

><p>Varric and Isabela exchanged glances. Misery had hardly spoken during the climb from Lowtown to Hightown, and as they entered the Red Lantern district of Hightown a low growl escaped the fair skinned rogue's lips at the sight of an elven woman and couple of companions loitering in a corner across from the Blooming Rose.<p>

"Everything alright?" Varric asked.

"Stay alert," Misery answered sharply. She snapped her fingers and Revas trotted forward to her side.

In contrast, Athenril smirked at the sight of her former lieutenant approaching. "Huh…" she began, shaking her head slightly. "Well I guess I just lost a sovereign. Didn't think you'd go slumming with our kind again, especially not when you're putting together your own crew now."

Misery raised an eyebrow curiously, causing Athenril to chuckle. "You think I don't keep tabs on you? That I don't know you have seven or eight people working for you? Quite an eclectic group at that."

"Whatever…" Misery replied, playing off her underlying concern with indifference. "If you're paying that close attention to me then you know I'm not in competition with you. The jobs I'm taking aren't anything you'd touch."

"Whatever indeed. Anyway, you are here now, so I am guessing you aren't too proud to work for my coin again."

"That remains to be seen."

Athenril smirked again. To her, for as proud as Misery was, she had a predictability that was relatively easy to manipulate. "Well, since you stormed off on me, I don't have anyone who can quite work your magic, if you know what I mean."

Misery was struggling to control her rising anger. The elf knew how to get under her skin and was succeeding at it once again. "Get to the point, Athenril. What is the job?"

The blonde elf began to pace, her expression turning serious. "Couple nights back I sent some men to fence a bit of cargo down at the Docks. You're familiar with the concept. Haven't seen them since."

"And you can't go down there and check it out yourself?"

"I have other things to do, I'm sure you can understand that. Anyway, I'd pay good silver for returning either the men or the goods."

Misery knew Athenril more than well enough to know she could be ruthless at times and that ultimately what she wanted out of this situation was her money. "Anyone I know involved?"

"No," she answered quickly and with a tinge of bitterness. "When you left, I had to take on new Fereldan… talent. No one of your caliber. Lad named Pryce was leading them."

"Lad?" Isabela asked. "I thought you said you sent _men_."

"I sent what I had available," Athenril answered matter-of-factly. "'Men' wasn't meant in the literal sense."

Misery waved her hand in irritation. "What are the goods we're looking for?"

"We were working on a deal with the Carta. Those Orzammar dwarves love luxury items."

"Orzammar?" Varric asked before shaking his head and chuckling in amusement. "Very few Carta members in these parts have ever seen Orzammar."

Athenril gave an uncaring, bored shrug. "We sent a chest full of fine fabrics, a bottle of aged wine, a cask of caviar… typical stuff _liberated _from Hightown merchants. Good enough work for you?"

Misery ran her fingers through her hair. "Not interested in silver. You want me it's going to take a full sovereign."

"Deal. Now hurry the fuck up and get my shit back or you'll get _nothing_," Athenril countered heatedly. She turned her back on the human rogue, the silent dismissal indicating the conversation was over.

-==0==-

"So, I'm guessing you and Athenril don't exactly get along," Isabela remarked as the group made their way towards the Hightown markets. The gate leading out of the markets was the most sensible route down to the Docks from Hightown.

"Good guess," Misery answered flatly.

"History between you two?"

"Yes."

"Wanna share?" Isabela asked with a hint of amusement in her tone.

Misery stopped walking and turned to glare at the dark skinned rogue. "Wanna shut the fuck up?"

"Wanna make me?" Isabela challenged back on principle. She wasn't upset like Misery, but she was never one to back down from a challenge.

Varric stepped between them. "Ladies, let's not do this…" Revas barked in agreement.

Neither of the two strong willed females staring the other down was willing to blink first. Realizing he wasn't tall enough to interrupt their sightlines merely with his presence, Varric raised his arms up and waved his hands in front of both girls' faces.

"Come on, ladies, knock it off! Same team here, remember?"

When they still didn't back down from each other, Varric huffed in exasperation. "What's wrong with you two? That time of month for both of you or something?"

Both females immediately broke eye contact and directed their glares at the dwarf.

"You really didn't…" Isabela began.

"…just say that." Misery finished.

"Ummm…"

The women glanced back up at each other. Isabela smirked. "Dunk him in the fountain over there?"

Misery returned the smirk. "Let's…"

"Uhhh… ladies… I was just kidding around… trying to get you to stop-"

Isabela and Misery each grabbed an arm and lifted him from the ground.

"Hey! I didn't mean it!" He started kicking his legs and squirming to try to escape their grasp.

"You weigh entirely too much for a little guy," Isabela complained. "You need to slow down on the pastries and ale."

The two women managed to drag him the short distance to the fountain, drawing all kinds of attention around them with their antics. Tossing him in with a loud shout and a splash, Isabela and Misery nodded in satisfaction at each other.

Varric sputtered and coughed as he dragged himself out of the water. "Note to self," he grumbled, "next time just let them kill each other."

-==0==-

While walking through the Hightown markets, a merchant called out. "You! Have you finally come in response to my letter?"

Misery lifted her gaze from the ground in front of her, turning her head in the direction of the man with the Orlesian accent. It took a moment before recognition settled in. Once it did, her prior fury was rekindled. "You will find no help here, _Serah_," she answered snidely.

"Are you not Athenril's wench? She assured me that you would help if I contacted you."

"What's this about, Hubert?" Varric asked with a sigh, still dripping water from earlier.

"The Bone Pit! I had to suspend operations at my quarry! My workers have all run off or gotten themselves lost in the mines. Serves me right for hiring Fereldan refugees. I sent others before to investigate, but have heard nothing. I need someone competent to go find out what is going on."

"Don't care. Goodbye," Misery said dismissively.

Varric frowned. "Wait a minute, Hawke, this could pay well."

"I said _no_."

"Why?" the dwarf asked incredulously.

"I don't like him or the friends he keeps."

"Friends? What does that have to do with anything?"

Misery was almost trembling in rage, and Varric couldn't miss the dangerous quality to her piercing aqua eyes to go with it.

"The answer is no," she warned.

"Misery… help me out here, I don't understand the problem. What has you so flustered?"

"_No_. You do not need to know anything more than that. And you will not push me on this."

Varric was beyond confused at what was producing such an extreme reaction from her, but it was more than obvious she was in a volatile mood and he was smart enough not to keep prodding her. With a sigh he nodded and began walking, gritting his teeth at the squishing sounds continuing to come from his boots with each step.

Misery knew she was fighting a losing battle against the strong emotions triggered by memories flooding her consciousness. She felt the acidic burn of bile rising in her throat. Spying a bench in the shade along the back wall, she moved away from Varric and Isabela.

"I need a break and am going to go sit down for a few minutes," she began while gesturing towards the bench. "You two go do some shopping or whatever." Revas followed her.

The other two rogues exchanged glances and shrugged. It was obvious that Misery was out of sorts, but it was equally obvious she didn't want to talk about it.

"We'll swing back by to pick you up in fifteen to twenty," Varric said and walked off without waiting for a response.

Misery sat down and closed her eyes, leaning forward and putting her head in her hands. She silently cursed herself for not being strong enough to push away the memory that was once again replaying in her mind's eye.

-==0==-

"_Damn, Misery! You sure clean up nice," Athenril remarked with a smirk at her approaching lieutenant. Nodding her head she added, "And you as well, Bethany."_

_Bethany giggled in response while Misery returned Athenril's smirk. The Hawke sisters were dressed to kill in a different manner than usual this evening. They were accompanying the elven gang leader on a job at a noble's estate in Hightown and had to dress the part for the roles they'd be playing. For her part, Athenril was in the garb of a typical house servant. Such was the life of an elf in Hightown, and if Athenril was bitter about it she didn't show it._

_Misery shifted uncomfortably in the expensive silk gown supplied by their host for the evening. The red and black gown exposed too much skin up top and clung far too tightly to her curves for her tastes. The rogue wasn't as buxom as her mother and sister, but she was shapely enough to draw appreciative eyes and the bodice portion of the gown only accentuated that. _

_She also strongly disliked that the only way she could carry a weapon was to strap a knife to the inside of her thigh, and that it would be difficult to retrieve quickly or discreetly if necessary. The lack of her daggers or a bow made her feel almost as naked as the dress was making her feel. And she was much more comfortable sans makeup and simply running her fingers through her hair and letting it fall naturally into place than sitting in front of a mirror primping._

_As a youth she was always tall and thin for her age, almost lanky. Her mid and late teens came and she stopped growing in height while at the same time her frame gradually filled out with lean muscle and natural curves. And even though the now twenty-two year old had developed into a very attractive young woman, she quite frankly didn't give a shit what she looked like, much to the chagrin of her mother and to the irritation of nearly every female she'd known in the last several years. That Misery required no effort to look good and yet seemed oblivious to it could be frustrating at times even to the few who knew her well enough to call her a friend._

"_I feel like I should be applying for a job at the Blooming Rose dressed like this," Misery replied._

_Athenril scoffed. "You look nothing like the entertainment at the Rose. You'll fit in perfectly at the party."_

"_So what are we expected to do? Just mingle and observe?" Bethany asked as the women began walking from their meeting spot in the Hightown markets to the DuPuis mansion where the party was taking place._

"_Right. We're working this for Gascard DuPuis, an Orlesian noble who is hosting this party. There are going to be some nobles in attendance that he thinks are plotting against him. Our job is to blend in while trying to get any info we can from the other guests. I'm 'working' as a serving girl, so I'll be moving around quite a bit and mostly eavesdropping on conversations. You two will actively participate in the party. You'll need to be casual but the goal is to get people to talk about DuPuis and hopefully reveal too much."_

"_What do we say if we're asked about ourselves?" Bethany asked. "We're not exactly a real part of the Hightown scene."_

"_One of the guests is a Hightown merchant that trades in exotic goods, an Orlesian twit named Hubert. If asked you'll say you work for him in inventory acquisition. He's known to hire Fereldan refugees, and has already been paid off to say you work for him if someone tries to check up on it."_

"_Anything else we should know?" Misery asked. She wasn't nearly as concerned as Bethany about not having done this before. While Athenril's primary business was smuggling, she had her fingers in many pies. Misery had picked up or refined a number of talents working for her, and espionage was a natural extension to thieving, assassination, extortion, intimidation, and sabotage._

_Athenril shrugged. "People are not going to say anything incriminating when DuPuis is within earshot, so be aware of where he is and try to work the opposite side of the room without being obvious about what you're doing."_

_Scoffing, Misery shook her head. "No worries about staying away from DuPuis. I've had dealings with him for you in the past, the guy is a creep."_

_Athenril stopped walking and turned to Misery, looking up at her with a hard glare. "He is one of my best paying clients, not only for the smuggling jobs we've done for him in the past, but for tonight as well. Don't fuck this up by being a pretentious bitch. You'll do whatever he asks of you."_

_Misery waved her hand dismissively, turning and continuing to walk rather than responding verbally. There wasn't anything to say, Athenril was well aware of what her limits were and in the nearly a year they'd worked together had never pushed those boundaries. So it wasn't worth trying to draw a line in the sand over nothing with the woman that for all intents and purposes owned her for a few more weeks._

-==0==-

_The party was about what Misery expected. A few dozen people of overinflated self-worth engaged in vain one-upmanship, petty complaining about the most trivial of issues the city faced, and complimenting each other to their faces only to ridicule and deride once attention turned elsewhere. The rogue played her part, though she'd admit Bethany looked far more at ease working the room. _

_As the evening wore on, Misery realized she was finding it increasingly difficult not to let the disgust she felt for these people slip through to her body language and tone of voice. She wondered if this was how her grandparents were, if this was the type of social scene her mother grew up with. If it was, she fully understood now why mother gave up nobility to marry Malcolm Hawke and leave Kirkwall._

_It also didn't help that as the evening progressed and the liquor flowed, several of the men in attendance had become more brazen in their innuendos and less inhibited in trying to put their hands on her, in some cases even while their significant others stood mere feet away momentarily distracted. Gascard in particular had made it a point of being overly affectionate the few times he'd gotten close to her. Misery knew she could take care of herself, but she was conditioned to worry about protecting her sister. And Bethany's low cut maroon gown only accentuated and drew attention to her figure. More than one man had been guilty that night of talking to the mage's chest instead of her face. _

_Misery was pulled from her thoughts when Athenril came up to her carrying a drink on a platter. "Another drink for you, Serah?" she asked in perfect form. The rogue forced herself to stifle a grin, instead merely nodding and taking the glass after a brief hesitation. _

"_Wait five minutes and then meet me in Gascard's office," Athenril whispered. Nodding towards a hallway she continued, "Down that hall, last door on the left." The elf walked off without waiting for a reply._

_Misery glanced down at the glass in her hand, casually swishing the golden liquid around. She'd been careful to manage her drinks throughout the night in order to stay sharp, but she wasn't a heavy enough drinker to have a very high tolerance and could tell she was getting a bit warm and fuzzy. But against her better judgment she poured it back anyway before politely excusing herself from the current conversation and crossing the room to tell Bethany where she was going. She hoped her sister would be okay while she was off finding out what Athenril wanted._

-==0==-

_The raven haired rogue quietly made her way to DuPuis' office. She entered the room to find Gascard leaning against a desk and already in a semi-heated conversation with Athenril, who was sitting in a chair._

"_What do you mean you did not find anything out?" he demanded. The slight slurring of his Orlesian accented words gave away that he'd had too much to drink._

_Athenril shrugged. "I overheard a lot of petty bullshit, but nothing that sounded like any plot against you. Misery?"_

_The other girl shook her head. "A few people I talked to were more open about their dislike for Serah DuPuis, but from what I observed I'm not sure that anyone here likes anyone else. Bethany didn't get anything either." Turning to Gascard she added, "I did find out that some suspect you are an illegal mage."_

_DuPuis scowled. "Fucking useless!" he exclaimed._

_Misery raised an eyebrow quizzically. "Excuse me?"_

"_I know there is something going on against me! I paid you whores good coin to ferret it out!"_

_Athenril stood up, gesturing for Gascard to calm down while Misery bristled visibly at the insult. "You paid for a job that my girls and I completed. Now, Misery said there were a few that were more open about not liking you. If you would like to negotiate a rate, we can put a tail on each of them and see what else turns up."_

"_I am not paying a single bit until you give me the information I already paid for." _

"_Gascard, be reasonable," Athenril countered. "What you're asking for requires subtlety. We can't ask questions too directly without drawing suspicion, and only a complete fool would let too much slip while at a party hosted by the very man they're plotting against."_

_DuPuis scowled again. "Excuses! Perhaps I should go to the Coterie if you are not up to the task, no?"_

_Athenril took in and released a deep breath. Her gang was one of the few still standing in Kirkwall that the Coterie had not put out of business one way or another. The threat of losing one of her top clients to them struck a chord. "My girls are pros. If they could not talk the info out of your guests, I guarantee the Coterie would not have done better."_

_As Gascard rubbed his chin thoughtfully, a predatory grin began to spread across his face. "I am willing to give you another chance, but I need a show of faith." His eyes drifted over to Misery._

"_What do you mean?" Athenril asked in confusion._

"_This one can prove to me that tonight was not a complete waste by showing me her mouth is good for something other than speaking." He flashed a lecherous grin at Athenril's girl._

_Misery wasn't naïve, but she had absolutely no sexual experience and it took her a moment to catch on to what he was suggesting. When she did her eyes narrowed and her expression flushed in anger. "I am no whore! Go over to the Rose if you want that!"_

"_And why would I do that when I have a beauty right here in front of me?" he began in reply while sauntering towards the girl. _

_For Athenril's part, she stared in disbelief at DuPuis as he closed in on Misery and began trying to pull her to him. She knew she needed to defuse the situation and get her girl out of here, but she wouldn't do it at the risk of losing DuPuis' business. She was at a loss for words._

_Misery batted the man's hands away and took a step back. "You are drunk, Serah," she declared in defiance, emphasizing 'Serah' in a snide tone that made it clear it was not meant respectfully. "I suggest you go sleep it off." She wasn't feeling fully in control of her own faculties either and was kicking herself for knocking down that last drink._

"_Misery!" Athenril exclaimed angrily, snapping out of her stupor. She didn't care how this drunken jackass was behaving. She damned well wasn't going to allow the girl to ruin this business relationship. And truth be told, she didn't understand why Misery had such a problem with it anyway. The elven 'serving girl' had been pulled into a side room and taken by a noble earlier in the party. The entire thing only lasted a couple of minutes. She didn't resist, it was just part of the job as far as she was concerned. _

_DuPuis laughed inappropriately loud before his expression turned serious. "Ahhh, yes… bed. Perhaps I will take your sister into my bed instead. Those tits of hers will make nice fluffy pillows to rest my head on after I have had my fill of her."_

_Hawke's temper flared even further. "You will not touch Bethany!" she growled, which in turn raised Athenril's ire even more._

"_Shut up, Misery, and let me handle this!" the elf demanded in frustration._

_DuPuis ignored Athenril and stepped forward while drawing his arm back. With the back of his hand he slapped the raven haired beauty hard across the face. "Learn your place! You do not tell your betters what they will or will not do!"_

_The force of the unexpected blow spun her so that her back was facing the man, her momentum carrying her into a crouching position before she caught herself. She didn't move for a moment, her sluggish mind desperately trying to piece together a plan to get herself and Bethany out of here. _

_Before she could do anything, however, she felt his hand grip her shoulder. Taking a deep breath, she discreetly lifted the gown enough to slide her hand between her legs and unsheathe her knife. Gascard was just beginning to speak again when she suddenly whirled around and slashed his arm._

_Gascard hissed in pain as he yanked his arm back and retreated a few steps. "You little bitch!"_

_Misery smirked. "Bitch? I prefer… hardcore." Her smirk quickly turned dark as she took up a threatening posture, ready to attack if the drunken noble pushed her any further._

"_Back off, Misery!" Athenril scolded, seething at the girl for escalating the situation._

_DuPuis glared furiously at the rogue. He muttered a handful of words and the wound dried up and began to close, confirming he was in fact an apostate. Then he turned to Athenril and issued an ultimatum._

"_Either your dog lord bitch gets on her knees and shows me a little appreciation, or I take my business to the Coterie." He hadn't missed Athenril's facial expression at his previous mention of the rival thieves' guild. He could tell they were a sore spot for the elf, a sore spot he was more than willing to exploit._

_The thought of simply killing the bastard quickly crossed Misery's mind, but it passed just as quickly. Offing a noble in a house full of guests would be way too high profile. There would be no way she'd get away with it. She realized she needed to just get out of here, pride be damned at this point. She sheathed her knife and spun on her heels, intending to make a quick exit._

"_Don't you fucking dare!" Athenril growled. "Not another step!"_

_Misery spun back around, staring at the elf in shock at her tone. "Wh-what?"_

_Athenril stalked up to her. "Some of my people may think that you should be in charge," she began, bitterly revealing that she knew Hawke's abilities to get things done had sowed seeds of dissent in her gang, had some of her own people questioning her leadership. "But you are not, and you damned well will remember that I own you!"_

"_We have a deal, Athenril! I don't do sexual favors… for anyone."_

"_You will not fuck this up for me!" The elf shoved Misery towards Gascard, causing the slightly drunk rogue to stumble into him._

**_*!*!*!*!*_**

**If you are offended by or uncomfortable with dubious consent, **

**skip the section below and pick the story back up where the italicized text ends**

**_*!*!*!*!*_**

_The Orlesian man grabbed the off balance girl by the shoulders and forced her to her knees in front of him. _

_Misery froze. Her mind couldn't come to grips with the position she was in. This was not supposed to be happening. This couldn't be happening._

"_Take it out," he demanded in a low, stern voice._

_When Misery made no move to comply, Athenril stomped her foot angrily. She bent down and whispered harshly into the girl's ear so only she could hear, "I swear, if you don't get to work I absolutely will go get Bethany and let him fuck her right here on the desk in front of you."_

_The fires of defiance were extinguished by that threat. There was almost nothing she wouldn't do to protect her sister, even submitting to this humiliation. _

_She trembled at the thought of what was about to happen. "If I do this," she whispered hoarsely in reply, "I have your word she won't be touched?"_

_Athenril laughed cruelly. "Hurry the fuck up before I get even more pissed off at you than I already am."_

_It wasn't a promise, but Misery clung to the hope that Athenril wouldn't let Bethany suffer if she complied. It was all she had right now. She felt the sting of tears in her eyes, realizing she was stuck. The only way to avoid what was being demanded of her would be to fight both DuPuis and Athenril, and even if she managed to win, the long-term consequences for doing so would most likely be even worse than what she was about to have inflicted on her._

_She forced the rage of hatred into the forefront of her mind, unconsciously using the strong emotion to suppress the underlying fear. Her pride wouldn't let her show the helplessness that otherwise threatened to overwhelm her. _

"_You've got 'til the count of ten," Athenril began. "One… two… three… four…" _

"_F-fine…" Misery relented. Her eyes went distant as she built a mental wall to deny her mind access to her heart and vice versa. Her mind wouldn't know the emotional hurt of Athenril's betrayal, and her heart wouldn't know the abuse her body was going to take so Bethany's would remain pure._

_Gascard chuckled, pleased with himself that the pretty thief with the sharp tongue who had nastily brushed off his advances in the past was about to put those luscious, full lips of hers to better use than backtalking him. He untied the drawstring on his pants before letting his hands fall to his side. He didn't need to say anything else, he was content to let the rebellious girl admit defeat and give in on her own. He knew it was inevitable._

_Stifling a shudder, Misery finally moved her hands from her side to DuPuis' waist. With a near vacant expression she grasped and slowly tugged the loose waistbands of his pants and underpants down to reveal his hardening member. She intellectually knew she was expected to put it in her mouth, but she had no real idea what she was supposed to do beyond that. _

_Seemingly realizing she didn't know what to do, Gascard laughed. The thought that this was her first time made the situation even more delicious to him. "Start with your hands."_

_Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment at not only being forced to do this against her will, but at having to be instructed on how to do it by the very person she was having to do it to. She didn't protest, however, and grasped him in her left hand. She felt it twitch at her touch, quickly reaching its full length in her hand. She was surprised at how warm it felt, but didn't have time to contemplate anything more before she felt his hands on the side of her head pulling her face forward._

_Gascard hissed as the head of his tool parted the girl's lips and passed into her mouth. The hiss turned to a groan of pleasure when it bumped up against the entrance to her throat and she gagged. A self-satisfied smile crept over his face at the choking sound she'd made. He let go of her head though and let her pull back to catch her breath._

_Misery took a couple of calming breaths and then took him back in her mouth. As disgusted as she was with the situation, she knew there was no point in hesitating, as doing so would only drag her humiliation out even longer. She gripped him tightly in her hand in an attempt to maintain control and only allow the couple of inches that protruded from between her thumb and index finger into her mouth, the intention being to keep him from hitting the back of her throat and triggering her gag reflex again. _

_DuPuis let the raven haired beauty go at her own pace for awhile, mainly for his own amusement. What she was doing felt reasonably good, but it wasn't nearly enough sensation to push his alcohol dulled libido towards climax. He was getting far more pleasure out of watching her grudgingly perform on him than from the actual technique._

_Athenril, who had retaken her seat and was watching with a rather bored expression, sighed in exasperation after nearly ten minutes had gone by. It was beyond obvious to her that Misery had no idea what she was doing and that DuPuis was content to milk this for all it was worth. _

"_Andraste's left tit, we're going to be here all night if you don't put a little more enthusiasm into it," the elf complained._

_Misery didn't quite know what that meant, but it didn't matter because DuPuis was finally growing bored of the girl doing what he considered to be little more than slobbering on his tip. "Very well, Athenril," Gascard replied even though he knew the comment had been intended for the girl. "Enthusiasm it is."_

_Gascard grasped Misery's wrist and pulled her hand away from his member. He reached down and grasped her other hand as well before bringing both of them to rest on the back of her head, where he held them firmly in place with his own hands. With the hand previously blocking access out of the way, he groaned once again as he slid all the way to the back of her mouth. _

_After a few strokes he pressed hard, pushing into her resisting throat and reveling in the feel of her choking on him. He held her head in place with her nose firmly pressed into his pubic hair for a long moment, looking down and seeing the strain of her neck muscles trying to pull back. Finally he allowed her head to move back until the end of his length rested on her lips. _

_Smirking at the girl trying unsuccessfully to fight the tears in her eyes, he began grinding his crotch against her face, making a show of embarrassing her further. "Leave your hands where they are," he ordered as he took his own hands away. _

_Misery looked up at him questioningly, only to have him grasp his rod and start smacking her lips and cheeks with it. Her face flushed once more, but this time it was burning with fury and hatred at how he was going out of his way to humiliate her, knowing she wasn't able to do anything but take it._

_His eyes narrowed slightly at the sight of her silent anger. He quickly repositioned himself and thrust into her mouth, taking only a couple of short strokes before burying himself in her throat again. He put his hands on top of her head to hold it steady and sped up his cadence. He was done messing around with the little Fereldan bitch. This was no longer a blow job - he was fucking her mouth, and doing it roughly. _

_Misery clenched her eyes closed, praying that the rape of her mouth would end. She quickly lost her breathing rhythm, making the pain even worse as her lungs began to scream from the lack of oxygen all the while she was choking constantly from his assault. _

_DuPuis was in ecstasy with the openly hostile rogue he'd lusted over completely at his mercy. He closed his eyes in pleasure briefly before forcing them open to watch the girl. He didn't expect that he'd be lucky enough for this to be more than a one-time deal, so he wanted to commit every part of it to memory. But watching the scene in front of him only heightened his excitement and accelerated his release. _

_With a guttural growl he committed his final insult. Gascard pulled out in time to spray Misery in the face with the first couple of spurts, his seed streaking from her hair down across her forehead and nose. After that he pushed back into her mouth and held her in place, forcing her to swallow the rest of his release and keep him in her mouth until he gradually softened. _

_Misery collapsed on to her hands as soon as DuPuis let her go, panting audibly while trying to get her body under control. Her face was flushed from a combination of lack of oxygen, anger, and shame. It wasn't lost on her that his last little act was one of dominance, much like a mabari raising its leg to mark its territory. She hated herself for being in this situation nearly as much as she hated the ones who put her here._

_For his part, DuPuis didn't stick around. Pulling up and retying his pants, he mockingly declared that she'd earned her pay for the night after all. Leaving the room, he said he'd kept his guests waiting long enough and that the two of them could show themselves out. _

_The rogue opened her eyes to see Athenril crouched in front of her holding out a handkerchief. Misery hesitated only a moment before deciding pride was a moot point. She snatched the offered rag and began to wipe her face off. She knew her face must be a disaster from tears and smeared makeup in addition to the other running fluid, and wondered how she was possibly going to get herself presentable enough to go get Bethany in the main room._

"_Across the hall is a washroom," Athenril began, as if reading her mind. "Get cleaned up, get your sister, and go home. Take tomorrow off and then follow up on the leads you got tonight. I'll expect you to check in with a status report in three days." The elf's tone wasn't unkind, but it wasn't sympathetic either. With that, Athenril stood up and left without another word._

_Later that night as Misery lay in bed and Bethany had finally stopped pestering her with questions about what had happened, she mentally kicked herself for having been alone in DuPuis' office at the end and missing the opportunity to loot it of valuables. In her distress at the time the thought hadn't even crossed her mind. Before sleep finally took hold, she affixed Gascard DuPuis and Athenril to slots one and two of her new list – a list of people she swore to herself she would one day kill and get away with it._

_After further reflection, she became furious with herself at the realization that she'd made it well known how much her little sister meant to her. Athenril had used that knowledge as a weapon against her to extract obedience. She vowed to herself not to let someone exploit personal knowledge of her again._

-==0==-

The sounds of Isabela and Varric laughing as they approached pulled Misery back to reality. She took a deep breath and steeled herself, standing up and moving towards the gate leading out of Hightown as they fell in stride with her.

Varric started to ask the rogue if she was alright before thinking better of it and remaining silent. He'd spent a portion of the time she was sitting alone with Revas casually observing her from afar. He could tell something was very wrong, and could guess from her behavior that it had something to do with Athenril. But as she was prone to doing, Misery had withdrawn into her shell and the dwarf knew she was unreachable at the moment. So he let her be and shifted thought to wondering why the Carta would be getting involved with a relatively smalltime elven smuggler like Athenril. It didn't fit the way they typically conducted business.

For Isabela's part, she couldn't be bothered enough to care about more drama from Misery, who she felt was entirely too intense for her own good. And the pirate had been around the block far too many times to be intimidated by her like nearly everyone else was. She reminded herself that Misery was a means to an end, and that if working with her became more trouble than it was worth she'd simply cut bait and move on.

And so the companions walked along stoically, close in physical presence but miles apart mentally.

-==0==-

The autumn days were getting shorter and it was already dark by the time they arrived at the Docks. After walking a short distance towards one of the quays, they heard a man shout, "That's Athenril's whelp! Kill him!"

Moments later, a boy came running down and hopped off the pier, glancing back while sprinting away from the sounds of shouting. Misery snatched the bow off her back.

"Pryce! Find cover while we deal with them!" she ordered. "Isabela, Revas, I've got a surprise for them. Hold back until I turn it loose."

She fingered one of the new toys she'd gotten from her friend Tomwise while waiting for the attackers to appear. A quartet of thugs wearing the colors and emblems of the Coterie quickly came into view. They came to a halt at encountering another armed group.

"And what are you fine, upstanding gentlemen up to this evening?" Isabela asked, chuckling.

"Get out of our way if you don't want to get hurt," the leader of the group warned.

Misery noted a pair of archers catching up, raising the total foes to six. "Forget the kid. If you hurry you can bag Athenril herself up in the Hightown Red Lantern district."

The man paused. "Think we can trust her, boss?" one of his minions asked.

He studied Misery carefully. "You're aware that if you're lying you just signed your own death warrant, right?"

Misery shrugged. "The longer you stand here, the less likely she'll still be hanging around outside the Rose. It's not my problem if you miss her."

Varric shook his head as he watched the thugs running towards the cart path used to transport goods from the Docks to the Hightown markets. "You really want Athenril dead, don't you?"

"Don't know what gave you that idea," she deadpanned in response.

The boy came out from his hiding spot behind some crates. "Th-thank you… I thought them Coterie men had me for sure."

Misery turned to face the boy. "Pryce, I take it?" She sighed. "Athenril sent _you_ here to deal with the Carta, seriously?"

Pryce nodded tentatively. "I guess the whole thing was a trap. There were no dwarves. When I went to make the trade it was just Coterie waiting to kill us. They got the other boys."

Varric rubbed his chin. "I thought it was awfully strange for the Carta to be working with her. A Coterie trap makes much more sense."

"How old are you, Kid?" Isabela asked. "You look a little young to be caught up in this stuff."

"I'm fifteen!" Pryce answered defiantly. "I can usually pass for a man."

Varric looked over the human that wasn't any taller than him. "If you're a day over thirteen, I'm an elf."

Pryce frowned and bowed his head. "My mama was ripped in two by one of those horned darkspawn. It's just me and my sisters now. I… I d-don't like working for Athenril… but she pays me enough to feed the girls."

"You still have the goods, or did the Coterie take them?" Misery asked pointedly.

"I-I… I still have them," he admitted in a soft voice. "They're in a chest I hid nearby."

Misery's expression softened momentarily and her lips tugged upward in a smirk. "Tell me, Pryce, do you know who I am?"

"Y-y-yes, Serah Hawke. Athenril… she's had me and some of the other boys watching and reporting back to her about you."

Isabela chuckled. "Using kids because they go unnoticed running around the city. Clever…"

Misery scowled at the boy's confirmation of Athenril's earlier statement about keeping tabs on her. She couldn't decide what the elf's motivation was, but the knowledge that Athenril was so determined not to let her get completely away was the final straw. Misery had been biding her time in order to catch and kill Athenril when she least suspected it coming. Now it was time to force the issue.

"So tell me this then, how do you think Athenril will react when I tell her I gave you the goods and told you to take your sisters and go find a farm or something to work on?"

Pryce's eyes opened wide. "Sh-she would p-probably try to k-kill you," he stuttered.

"I hope you are right," Misery replied darkly before adding, "Get out of here. I mean it, get the fuck out of Kirkwall. There are plenty of farms between here and Starkhaven to make a living on. Sell the goods and use the coin to get your family to one."

"W-will you make sure Athenril doesn't come after us?"

Varric shook his head. "Kid, if you haven't figured it out, Hawke is setting things up so she'll get to kill Athenril."

"I-I'll go get my sisters… th-thank you…" With that, Pryce took off running.

Varric sighed. "I sure hope you know what you're doing."

Misery glared at the dwarf. "Go home. Revas and I will deal with Athenril."

"Fuck you, Hawke. You're my partner and I've got your back even when you're doing stupid shit like this."

Isabela laughed. "Awww… can't you feel the love?"

Rather than reply, Misery merely turned and began walking back the way they came. Despite being pissed off, the mental image of Athenril's upcoming reaction was enough to make her crack a grin.

-==0==-

Athenril was pacing back and forth, very agitated over the encounter with the Coterie that had ended only a few minutes prior. One of the three men with her had been killed, another was on his way to see a healer, and she herself had picked up a few cuts. Her irritation only increased at the sight of a rather smug looking Misery Hawke approaching.

"Well?" she asked in a venom laced tone.

"I rescued your boy, Pryce. The Coterie were more interested in you anyway so I told them where to find you."

"You did what?" she screeched.

"No need to get all pissy. Like you couldn't handle that pack of scrubs," Misery offered sarcastically.

Athenril seethed. "You are such a bitch, Misery. I lost one of my better men to that attack. So are you here to socialize or did you bring my goods?"

"Nah, I gave them to Pryce and told him to get him and his family out of Kirkwall. Figured you owed him that much for not doing your due diligence. You sent him right into a trap."

"You gave my goods away to that little brat? Damn you! You know what? I took care of you, Misery. Took care of you and Bethany, made sure she was always beneath the Chantry's notice. And this is how you repay me?"

"You were paid in full and then some the night you broke our agreement!" Misery hissed. "And we earned you far more than you paid to get us into the city!"

Athenril sighed bitterly. She desperately wanted to attack Hawke right here, but she was outnumbered and knew Hawke was baiting her to do just that. "I swear this to you now, Misery, if you ever show your face around me again I _will _kill you. And then I'll sell the rest of your family into slavery, even your fucking dog. Now get away from me."

Misery snatched both knives from her belt, but before she could pounce the loud _thunk_ of Bianca firing came from behind her. The rogue blinked, refocusing her vision to see the wide-eyed elf in front of her grasping the crossbow bolt sticking in her throat. Athenril dropped to her knees and Varric fired again, hitting her between the eyes and ending her life immediately. The companion who had been with Athenril ran away.

Misery whirled around on Varric, staring at him in disbelief.

"What?" he asked. "You were just going to kill her anyway, right? I saved you the trouble." Despite his flippant statement, he knew there was more to it than that, more than just knowing Misery already intended Athenril's death. In the heat of the moment he couldn't pinpoint the emotional source of his impulsive response, but he had enough awareness to know the elf's declaration of killing Misery and selling Sunshine and the rest of their family into slavery had triggered something in his core. Shooting Athenril hadn't been a _want _prior to that moment. Then it had instantly become a _need_.

The raven haired rogue's mouth opened and closed repeatedly, unable to voice any of the thoughts that were coursing through her mind. She'd thought so many times about how that elf would die at her hands, and in one fell stroke Varric took it away from her. She didn't know how to respond or what to feel, but she could feel her throat getting tight and the urge to cry coming on. Her instincts took over and she responded the only way her body would let her.

She turned and ran, leaving a completely confused Varric and Isabela behind.

Revas took off after her, quickly catching up and trotting alongside her as she ran down the great stairs leading back down to Lowtown, and ran all the way to Merrill's house, which she knew would be empty for awhile since the elf was off helping Bethany, Anders, and Aveline look for Feynriel. She picked the lock and let herself and Revas inside, not bothering with any light as she sat down in a corner of the small living room and turned loose her pent up emotion.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: This was a difficult chapter. <strong>**A huge thanks to Eva Galana and Josie Lange for giving me a much needed sanity check on "the scene" as well as betaing the chapter as a whole. I've never written anything like that before and completely lacked confidence in my ability to capture the rawness and emotions involved without detracting from it with trite/cheesy phrasing and word choices. Some edits to that scene and others based on their feedback made for a stronger chapter than it would have been just on my own. **


	15. Wayward Son, Wayward Sister

"Where is Feynriel?" Aveline demanded heatedly, jostling the badly wounded slaver mage lying on the ground in front of her.

Danzig chuckled painfully. He'd arrogantly told his people to take this group of three women and a man prisoner for the purpose of selling them into slavery to the Tevinter Imperium. He realized that was a miscalculation when the man in the group, obviously a mage, gestured to the red haired female warrior and sarcastically pointed out that trying to take the captain of Kirkwall's city guard wasn't exactly going to go unnoticed. And that trying to take a Hawke was just suicidal.

The slaver mage knew the name 'Hawke', though it was through reputation rather than personal experience. He had maintained his cold, aloof appearance at the revelation of who two of the women in front of him were, but the new information completely changed the dynamics of the situation in his mind. He went from assuming the quartet would be easily overwhelmed and quietly shipped off like so many others to wishing the dozen or so men on his side had numbered twice that. But he'd played his hand and there was no picking the cards back up.

Danzig's rising apprehension only became worse when the fighting started and it was further revealed that three of the four _victims _were mages, with the guard-captain being the lone exception. Sure enough, they'd made short work of most of his crew. Now he was a bleeding mess lying on his back, surrounded, with the angry guard-captain's armored knee pressed painfully against his stomach. And all of his men were dead.

"Where is he?" Aveline asked again when the slaver didn't immediately answer.

"To the Void with you," Danzig finally grunted out in response.

Aveline's glare didn't falter. "Tie him up," she ordered while standing, gesturing to lengths of frayed rope piled haphazardly on top of a crate nearby. Bethany and Merrill went to work securing him.

"Good luck keeping me in your prison," Danzig declared snidely, remaining defiant until the end.

A smirk slowly crept across the face of the guard-captain. "Prison?" she asked before shaking her head. "Oh no, you only wish you were going to prison."

"What are you going to do with him?" Anders asked, curious as to her intentions.

"Turn him over to the Chantry. I suspect his attitude will improve and he'll be much more cooperative once they've made him tranquil."

Anders huffed. "Why don't you just kill him now and get it over with?"

Bethany glanced up at her fellow mage. She was perfectly aware of his views on the Chantry and while she agreed with much of them, she had her limits. Mage or not, she saw no reason to protect this slaver and agreed with Aveline.

"Anders…" she said softly, "He knows where Feynriel was taken. We _need _that information, otherwise the trail goes cold."

Anders closed his eyes, his expression growing visibly tense. The perversion of what was once a spirit of Justice railed in his mind, harshly reminding its host that _all _mages deserved to remain free, that turning _any_ mage over to the Circle was a travesty of justice.

"Not the Circle," Anders answered harshly. Turning his attention back to Aveline he added, "Just take him to the city jail and interrogate him to get what you need. I'm sure you have your own _persuasive_ methods."

Aveline shook her head. "The guard-captain's _job _is to turn apostates over to the Chantry. If Meredith found out she would have her templars storm the jail to take him away, and then have Seneschal Bran arrest and depose me."

"So if that's your _job_, then I guess it's only a matter of time before you have Meredith coming after me, Bethany, and Merrill?" he asked.

"Calm down," Bethany interjected before Aveline could answer. "Aveline is our friend. She would never do that to us. It's not fair to her to suggest that she would."

Aveline nodded vehemently in agreement. "He goes to the Circle. End of discussion."

Merrill cleared her throat lightly. "Ummm… Aveline? I don't mean to be paranoid, or maybe I do… but since Anders identified us, what is to stop this slaver from telling the Chantry about the company you keep, getting you and us in trouble anyway?"

The guard-captain's hard expression fell. She knew Merrill had a good point, which in turn rekindled her anger. She didn't like that Anders was already establishing a pattern of making her life more difficult.

"Dammit!" she swore in frustration and began to pace.

Danzig couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation he was in, with the group arguing over his fate. He'd already made peace with the notion that this wasn't going to end well regardless. At the sound of the slaver mage's laughter, Aveline stomped over and kicked him hard in the ribs, immediately cutting off his mirth.

With the slaver tied up, Bethany knelt down and began rifling through the pockets of his robe. The act brought a scowl to Danzig's face, and the reason for that became apparent when Bethany produced an incriminating letter.

"So… it looks like they took Feynriel to a spot along the Wounded Coast. And conveniently the letter has a map to the location."

Aveline took the letter from Bethany's hand and skimmed it over. "Yeah…" She sighed. Gesturing to the map she said, "This place is probably a holding area where the handoffs are made. We'll need to go there as soon as possible to have any chance of finding the kid before he's transported out to wherever his final destination is supposed to be. And unfortunately, I'm not going to be able to go with you. I have some things to do for the viscount that I can't get out of."

Bethany nodded in understanding. "Don't worry about it. We'll get some of the others to go."

The two women suddenly heard a sharp gasp and a brief grunt come from the side. While they were preoccupied with their discussion, Anders had picked up a sword from a fallen slaver and plunged the pointed end into Danzig's throat, ending his life. He glared back defiantly at Aveline while casting the sword aside.

"Giving him to the templars was as good as a death sentence anyway," he said.

"That wasn't your decision to make!" Aveline shouted.

"Don't ever expect me to support sending a mage into the arms of the Chantry. I don't care what the situation is."

Aveline scowled. "So it's liberty or death to you? What gives you the right to make that decision for everyone else?"

When Anders didn't reply she turned towards the girl she considered practically a younger sister. In a softer tone she asked, "Bethany? Do you believe that too?"

The female mage hung her head, closing her eyes briefly. She admired the strength of Anders' conviction. It was one of the traits she loved about him. But at the same time, she worried it would lead him to a zealotry that was just as blind as the most hardened templar.

"No…" she admitted quietly. "What the Chantry does to mages is wrong, but…" Gesturing to the slaver mage she continued, "I'd have supported sending him if not for what Merrill said. I agree with her that under the circumstances it was too risky. I… I know Anders was just pointing out their stupidity in picking on us, but in the future we all need to be more careful with what we say."

Aveline nodded before turning her stern expression back on Anders. "I concede that we weren't left with another choice this time but to kill him, but you can't interfere with me upholding my sworn duty. Like it or not I _am _the guard-captain. I'll do everything I can to protect you guys, but you have to work with me too."

Anders, who was still fuming at the situation as a whole and at Bethany for not backing him up, forced a seemingly casual shrug. "Anyway, if we're done here I have other things I need to do."

Bethany nodded. She could tell he was angry, but didn't want to talk to him about it in front of the others. "Meet at the Hanged Man in the morning to go after Feynriel?"

"Sorry, I can't…" he lied. He'd planned to be at the clinic the following day, but it wasn't that he was unable to change that plan. His refusal had much more to do with Justice pushing his buttons, egging on his anger that Bethany wouldn't see things their way. And under the circumstances he did not want to spend the next day following Misery's lead, which he expected would be the case. He already knew he wouldn't be able to keep himself in check if she poked at him as usual.

Bethany bit her bottom lip. His eyes had given away the truth that his apologetic expression sought to hide. "I… see," she replied curtly. "Never mind then." Motioning to the other two women she began to leave.

"G-good luck," he said as she brushed past him. Bethany ignored him and kept walking.

Despite the turmoil raging in his head, he felt a twinge of sorrow at the realization she'd picked up on him not being honest with her. She was practically the only source of stability in his life, and upset or not he didn't want to lose that. But he also knew Justice saw things in very black and white terms, and if Bethany wasn't supporting his goals then Justice would see her as nothing more than an unnecessary distraction and force the issue of separating him from her.

With an exasperated sigh after the trio of women disappeared from sight, he started on his way back to the clinic.

-==0==-

"You going to be alright?" Aveline asked as the three made their way through Lowtown towards the Hanged Man.

Bethany smirked slightly. They were approaching the stairs that led up to Hightown and Aveline likely needed to return to the Viscount's Keep. Since the day had turned to night, she assumed the guard meant reaching the Hanged Man safely.

"I think we can handle making it to the Hanged Man from here on our own," she answered.

Merrill perked up. "Oh, I agree. The streets are much safer with the gangs being so afraid of the Shadow. Not that there are many of them left…"

"_Merrill_," Aveline grumbled at the mention of that sore spot. When the elf merely smiled apologetically, she turned her attention back to Bethany. "That isn't what I meant. You haven't said hardly anything since we ditched Anders."

The mage waved her hand dismissively. "I'm not going to worry about him right now. He's busy, I'm busy, we're all busy. I'll see him when I see him."

"Uh huh," Aveline replied dryly, knowing the girl didn't believe what she was saying. "Anyway, you've already heard my piece about him, and I _know _you've heard your sister's, probably more than once. So… just be careful, alright?"

Bethany sighed. "Yeah, I know. He's the one topic that even my mother and sister seem to agree on. I'll be fine, trust me."

"Anyway, I need to go back to the barracks. You be careful tomorrow, and let me know how it went after you're back."

Nodding slowly, Bethany replied, "Can I ask a favor? Since you're passing near there anyway, would you mind stopping by and asking Fenris if he can help us tomorrow? If he can, he can meet us at the Hanged Man in the morning. I want to leave early, maybe a couple of hours after daybreak."

"Will do, Hawke," Aveline replied, smirking at the girl who was displaying leadership abilities along the lines of the one she usually reserved that moniker for. With that she nodded and headed towards the stairs while Bethany and Merrill continued towards the Hanged Man.

-==0==-

Entering the popular Lowtown tavern, Bethany quickly caught sight of Isabela sitting at the bar chatting up a man next to her while sharpening one of her daggers. The pair of mages made their way through the crowd.

"I wasn't sure if you guys would be back before us or not," Bethany offered as she reached the rogue. "Everyone take off already?"

Isabela shrugged. "'Take off' is one way to put it, I suppose. Your sister flipped out and ran, leaving Varric and me behind."

Bethany's eyes grew wide. "Wh-what? What happened?"

"She was more pissy than usual the whole time anyway, then decided to force a confrontation with the person she got the job from after it was done. Varric intervened, she looked like she was about to have a breakdown, and then she took off." The rogue intentionally spoke in vague terms since they were in a very public place where others could hear what was being said.

"I… I can't believe she would leave you like that," Bethany replied, shaking her head. She knew her sister, she wasn't like that. And it hadn't been so very long since her sister had ranted about Anders doing that type of thing to her and Varric at the Chantry.

Isabela shrugged again. "Yeah, well, if my word isn't good enough you can try Varric. He's probably still upstairs."

Smiling weakly, Bethany replied, "No, I believe you. I meant I just don't understand why she would do that. That's not like her. But I do need to go talk to Varric anyway about a job for tomorrow. Are you available? It will probably take all day."

"Catch you later," Isabela said sultrily, winking at the man she'd been talking to at the bar before the two women showed up. Standing up, she nodded at Bethany. "Come on, let's see our favorite dwarf and talk shop."

-==0==-

Varric, who tended not to close the door to his suite unless he was sleeping or gone, looked up from his work on Bianca to see the visitors entering the room. After his swimming adventure in a fountain frequented by the Hightown bird population, Bianca was receiving a thorough cleaning and waxing.

"Ahhh, three of my favorite women," he remarked, flashing a grin.

"Three of a list of what, a hundred?" Isabela replied.

"Give me more credit than that, Rivaini, I have very discerning tastes."

Bethany impatiently interrupted. "Varric, what happened with my sister? Isabela said she forced a confrontation with Athenril and then flipped out and ran off?"

The dwarf nodded solemnly. "Have a seat, Sunshine. I'm hoping you can make sense of it for me. But you'll need to hear the whole story."

Over the next twenty minutes, Varric recounted the events of the day, from Misery's steadily increasing edginess to the initial meeting with Athenril, followed by Misery and Isabela almost coming to blows before tossing him into the fountain, to her extremely hostile reaction to Hubert and the distressed manner in which she acted afterwards, to how she handled the Coterie and Pryce, and finally to how she baited Athenril, the elven scoundrel's response, his intervention, and Misery's response.

Bethany continued to frown, as she had throughout most of Varric's story, at least when she wasn't gasping in astonishment. She was still trying to process the information when she met the dwarf's expectant gaze and began to speak.

"I… well, to be honest… you know me well enough to know that even if I knew exactly what caused her to react that way, I would say it was up to her to tell you if she wanted to. But truthfully, I don't know. I mean, things got tense between her and Athenril over the last couple of months of our time in Athenril's service, mainly because Athenril wanted my sister to continue working for her once the indentured servitude was over and my sister wouldn't commit to it. Athenril saw it as a lack of loyalty, and began to squeeze more and more work out of us as our end date approached."

Varric nodded. "I can imagine Athenril didn't want to lose her. Word from people in the know was that Misery was the one that made things happen for her. It was no coincidence that I approached you two that day you came out of Bartrand's office."

"Yes, well, anyone who valued their life didn't say that around Athenril. She was… _aggressive _about making it clear she was the one running the show."

The mage shook her head before continuing, "A few weeks before the end, we were at a party at a Hightown estate doing a job for this nobleman who thought some of the other nobles were conspiring against him. Apparently Athenril and my sister had an argument about something while we were there, because afterwards my sister was as angry as I've ever seen her. She went from simply wanting to finish out our servitude and get away from Athenril to wanting to kill her. She never would tell me what happened. But whatever it was, I guess she never let it go."

Varric rubbed his chin while thinking. "Misery was obviously setting things up today to kill her. Sounds like she'd planned on it for awhile then."

"Yeah, well," Isabela began, "she could have told us it was personal rather than keeping us in the dark and then losing her head when you poached her kill."

"I… I don't know what to say…" Bethany admitted.

"It's probably good that we are not asking Misery to go with us tomorrow," Merrill offered, trying to be helpful.

The other mage nodded slowly. "I was debating on asking her even though she hasn't been interested in getting involved with it. But not after this."

"Where are you girls going tomorrow?" Varric asked.

"We've tracked Feynriel to a location on the Wounded Coast." Bethany retrieved the map from her pack and handed it to the dwarf. "We took this from a slaver in Darktown. It's likely that Feynriel isn't the only one being trafficked out there, so I'd expect trouble. Can you two go with us?"

Isabela grinned. "Sounds like a good looting opportunity. I'm in."

Varric nodded slowly. "I'd say this location is roughly three hours out of the city. Anyway, sure… if you want me there, I'm there."

"Don't be like that," Bethany replied in a slightly admonishing tone. "Look, there was obviously something more going on with my sister than even I know. But I do know you were trying to help her."

He nodded again. "I guess I'll meet you downstairs in the morning at the usual time then."

"See you then," Bethany replied with a wave before heading for the door. Merrill followed, walking with her fellow mage as far as Gamlen's house before continuing on her way to the alienage.

-==0==-

The sound of the door opening startled Misery, bringing her focus back to the present. She had no idea how long she'd been sitting on the floor of Merrill's home in the dark, though it was long enough for her to get through her meltdown, compose herself, and then become lost in her reflections on the events of the day and of the past.

Revas woofed at the elven woman as she entered the residence, announcing their presence to her.

Merrill dropped into a fighting stance while snatching the staff from her back. Her first thought was that she'd caught someone robbing her home, and while she didn't have much worth stealing in the first place, she was going to defend herself and her property. She began gathering her power, ready to inflict the wrath of the Elvhen on the intruders.

"Merrill, it's me, Misery. And Revas." The mabari barked again.

The elf paused briefly before allowing herself to relax. "Misery?" she asked in confusion. A few moments later her naïve but pragmatic side took over as she skipped over wondering why the rogue was here in the first place and instead asked, "You did not find the lantern by the table?"

Merrill cast a ball of light in her hand to illuminate the small room before walking over and lighting the lantern. When Misery still hadn't replied or said anything else, she continued, "I was not expecting you to come over tonight. I-I mean, I don't mind, of course. I am glad you did. You are always welcome. I… I am just surprised you want company after what Varric said happened."

Misery wasn't going to bother explaining why she was really here and that it had nothing to do with wanting company. Instead she asked, "What did Varric say happened?"

"That you were… ill-tempered… throughout the job, and reacted badly when he killed Athenril before you did."

"That's a polite way of putting it. I imagine he's pissed that I took off on them."

"I think he is more concerned that you are upset with him actually. He seemed surprised that Bethany asked him to go with us tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"Oh… the information we had on Feynriel led to some slavers in Darktown, and now we have the location on the Wounded Coast where they are taking people. We are going there to hopefully get Feynriel back before he is sent to the Tevinter Imperium."

Misery sighed, clearly unhappy with the news. Under normal circumstances she wouldn't have minded going along now that the situation had escalated from a charitable search of town for a boy hiding from his mother to a potentially profitable raid on a slaver's den. But right now she just wanted to shut down and avoid people for a day or two. And she certainly wasn't in the mood to handle Varric with anything approaching civility. Especially not on what could potentially be a long trip.

As a child Mireille had been fascinated with maps, a trait inherited from and nurtured by her father. With the family moving around Ferelden all too often, being able to visualize where they were and where they had been provided much needed context for her. That fascination with maps grew beyond Ferelden's borders, and over time she learned quite a bit about the geography of Thedas. So even though she'd never been there, she remembered the road heading west from Kirkwall along the Wounded Coast eventually met up with the Imperial Highway, which in turn led north through Nevarra and into the Tevinter Imperium. Depending on the exact location of the slaver den along the coast, they could be faced with anywhere from a day trip to more than a week in each direction.

Shaking her head in resignation, Misery asked, "Do I need to figure out who else is available to go? And I assume we're leaving first thing in the morning? Depending on how far down the coast it is we might need to pick up supplies on the way out of town."

Merrill could tell that she didn't really want to go and correctly assumed the reason was whatever had been bothering her rather than an unwillingness to help them. However, she also knew what Bethany said, so she tried to make the rogue feel better by replying, "Oh, don't worry about it. Bethany already put together a group and told us she was not going to bother you with this."

Misery opened her mouth to protest but caught herself. It would be pointless to voice her thoughts to Merrill when it was clear she was only relaying what Bethany decided. Instead, she got to her feet and nodded.

"I suppose I need to go talk to my sister then," she said, keeping her tone and expression neutral. "Come on, Revas, let's go."

Merrill wished that Misery would stay longer and share a meager dinner with her. Maybe even open up a bit about what was bothering her. But she held her tongue on those thoughts and simply bid her goodnight.

-==0==-

Walking home, Misery felt conflicted. On the one hand, she was very proud of Bethany for taking the reins and doing what needed to be done. As protective of her younger siblings as she'd always been, Misery never wanted them relegated to her shadow, to an afterthought. That was something she never could get through to Carver.

Even up to his death he occasionally displayed feelings of inferiority and resentment towards her. Then again, Carver had always struggled with self-worth. He was talented in his own right, but growing up it was all too common for people outside the family to view him through the lens of Malcolm, and later Mireille.

Whereas Malcolm would deftly redirect Carver's negative energy rather than letting it fester, Mireille didn't have that same nurturing instinct. So as Carver's feelings of inadequacy became focused on her after their father's death, resentment seeped in when she all but gave up on convincing him of his own worth. She'd hoped that becoming a soldier would enable him to see himself as his own person, as something more than her little brother. But then Ostagar came and went and it was all over.

While Bethany never had the same competitive streak that caused her to constantly evaluate herself against her older sister, she'd also not shown much inclination to step out of her shadow. During their time with Athenril and then afterwards, Bethany had always been content to follow Misery's lead. And even though occasionally Misery did jobs without Bethany and vice versa, they were together so much that a running joke with Athenril's crew was that Bethany was Misery's own personal henchman. So Misery felt a genuine sense of pride at Bethany demonstrating leadership qualities of her own.

But on the other hand, she couldn't help the pang of hurt at the thought that Bethany's decision not to include her on the mission might have come from believing she wouldn't be willing to help. Or even worse, that it was because she actually didn't want her older sister there. On a less emotionally trying day Misery might have succeeded in pushing away the self-doubt, but now she also wondered if Anders had any influence on the decision. Bethany was growing increasingly close to him, and he was just as obvious in his dislike for Misery as she was with him.

Ambling along through Lowtown, she almost wished some thugs would come along to occupy her restless mind for a bit.

_Maybe later_, she thought, sighing to herself.

"There you are!" a female voice exclaimed, pulling Misery from her thoughts.

The rogue glanced up to see her sister bounding down the stairs in front of Gamlen's hovel. Noting Bethany was armed and armored, she asked, "Going somewhere?"

"I was about to get a search party together to look for _you_! Where have you been? Mother said you haven't been home since this morning, and after hearing what happened from Varric…" She trailed off, frowning and shaking her head.

Misery shrugged, portraying an air of indifference she wasn't really feeling. "I needed some time to clear my head. Besides, what does it matter? You already have your team ready for tomorrow."

When Bethany raised an eyebrow quizzically, she added, "I saw Merrill. She filled me in."

"I don't understand… what does tomorrow have to do with whether or not I was worried about you?"

Misery waved her hand dismissively. "Anyway, I'm back, so you can stop worrying. How far up the coast are you guys going? How long do you think you'll be gone?"

Bethany sighed deeply at her sister's blatant redirection of the conversation. "If the map is accurate, the location isn't more than a few hours outside of town. We'll leave early and hopefully be back tomorrow night. Depending on how it goes we could potentially camp and come back the following day."

"Revas, you are going with her," Misery ordered. "You're the only one I trust to protect her at all times." The proud mabari barked affirmatively.

"Miri, was it just Athenril in general that had you so out of sorts today?" Bethany asked, trying to spin the discussion back to the topic of her concern. "That's not like you to take off on your team like that. I know the situation was different and they weren't in any trouble outside the Rose, but that's basically what you killed Anders for back when we first met him."

"It was more than just Athenril. I was upset, but… I'm not going to defend leaving Varric and Isabela. It shouldn't have happened."

Bethany sighed again. "You're not going to tell me what's wrong, are you?"

"No, I'm not. Go get some rest. You have a long day tomorrow and will need to be at your best. And if you don't come back safely I'll find your corpse and kill you again myself."

The mage hung her head. "Are you upset that I put together the mission without consulting you first?"

"No."

"Then why-"

"Bethany," she began, interrupting her. In a softer tone she continued, "we'll… we'll talk after you get back, okay?"

"Promise?" She wasn't happy at not getting an immediate answer, but she knew her sister well enough to take what she could get.

"Yeah… promise," Misery agreed, knowing the scope of that promise was to discuss Bethany's decision to exclude her from the mission. She couldn't imagine ever telling Bethany about DuPuis.

-==0==-

After going inside and having to answer to her overreacting mother as a result of Bethany's earlier anxiety, Misery finally escaped to her shared bedroom. Though it was getting late and a perfectly appropriate time to call it a night, she didn't bother changing out of her armor. Instead she flopped down on the bed, closed her eyes, and waited.

Soon after, Bethany came into the room. The younger girl frowned at her sister not having taken the time to get ready for bed, but didn't say anything. Instead she finished changing and climbed up into the top bunk. It didn't take long before the mage's breathing fell into the steady rhythm of sleep.

Misery gave it an extra ten to fifteen minutes before sliding out of bed and making her way to her storage chest. She quietly retrieved her gear, and with a final glance back to ensure Bethany was still asleep, slipped out into the front room. She knew her mother was asleep and that it was still too early for Uncle Gamlen to have dragged in.

She knelt down and softly whispered to Revas, who was lying on the floor near the door, "Hey, boy. I am going out for awhile. Stay here and watch over Bethany and Mother."

A wistful smile took hold as she exited the house and briefly stared at the overcast sky before pulling the hood of her cloak up over her head. The lack of moon and starlight made for darker streets in Lowtown, which was perfect. She wanted action, and she damned well was going to find it.

.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: For very little going on in this chapter, it sure gave me multiple writer's blocks. I intended to go all the way through the Feynriel mission, but decided in the interest of just getting this done I'm opting to push that and interweave it with other content in the next chapter. Hopefully you guys will cut me some slack though on the subpar chapter since today is my 40<strong>**th**** birthday. Yep, I'm "officially old" as my 38 year old wife has been teasing me. Somehow I don't think she'll hold to that in a couple of years though :-)**


	16. Shadows Come to Light

"Ma'am? Is this where Misery Hawke lives?"

Leandra Hawke stared at the clean cut young man on her, nay _Gamlen's_ doorstep. She might have smiled at the handsome man if not for two details. First was that he referred to her oldest by that abominable nickname that irritated her to no end. She knew Mireille went by it just to spite her. Second was that he wore the pewter and orange of the City Guard, making it highly unlikely he was here for a social call.

She was aware that the circumstances of their first year in Kirkwall had resulted in her daughters not being the most upstanding of citizens, even if she didn't know the full extent of their illegal activities. But not knowing provided no comfort to the former noble. It left her with even more regret for coming back to Kirkwall.

"Yes, she lives here," Leandra replied evenly. "She is asleep at the moment. Do you need me to wake her, or can you leave a message?"

"Guard-Captain Aveline bid me inform Serah Hawke that her presence is requested immediately at the Viscount's Keep. She stressed that it is an urgent matter."

"Very well, I will see that she receives the message and is on her way."

"Thank you, Ma'am." The guard gave a short bow before turning away.

Leandra closed the door and leaned back against it, unconsciously letting out a sigh of relief that Mireille wasn't in trouble. Even though the two of them rarely saw eye to eye on much of anything anymore, including Mireille not accompanying Bethany on her search outside of town for a missing child, she couldn't help but worry about her. And though she knew that Aveline was still friends with her daughters, the guard-captain was an honorable woman committed to her duty, even if that meant arresting the Hawke girls.

Leandra poked her head into the small room her girls shared, sighing again at the sight of Mireille sprawled out on the bed, dead to the world even though it was already mid-morning, and appearing not to have bothered changing out of her armor from yesterday. She hadn't even taken her boots and gloves off. Approaching the bed, she took notice of the haggard appearance of the girl, the hallmarks of fatigue etched on her countenance.

The older woman paused. Her intent had simply been to wake her daughter, but now she found herself standing over her and taking in every last detail. Even sleep didn't seem to grant the girl peace, as her expression seemed filled with tension, her breathing more labored than it should be. Moving her eyes, Leandra noted the girl's black leathers were stained in spots by what could only be blood. She briefly wondered if it was hers or someone else's before pushing the thought away. She truly didn't want to know.

Several minutes elapsed before Leandra finally reached down and placed a hand on Mireille's shoulder, shaking her gently.

Misery's eyes snapped open. She blinked a few times before focusing on her mother.

"A city guardsman was just here. He said Aveline is asking that you go see her immediately," Leandra offered without preamble.

The younger girl groaned but dragged herself into a sitting position. "It's not as early as it feels, is it?" she asked sarcastically.

"You look like you have barely slept and it will already be midday by the time you arrive at the Viscount's Keep. Did you go out last night after I retired?"

Misery nodded slowly. "I had some things I needed to do."

"I cannot imagine it was anything good at that time of night."

"I'll save you the trouble of imagining – it wasn't," the rogue replied while standing up and moving to equip her weapons. "But it was productive."

Leandra sighed deeply while shaking her head. "I don't want to know. Just… be careful, alright? Whatever you are doing out late, I don't want the Shadow mistaking you for some common lowlife and deciding to kill you too."

Misery was too tired to bother trying to set her mother more at ease and wanted to just stop talking and get out of the house. So she replied, "I understand. Anyway, I'd better go see what Aveline is so hot and bothered about." With that, she strode to the door and was gone before her mother could say anything else.

Leandra sighed again at the realization that her daughter left the house without as much as a glance at her appearance in a mirror, let alone a modicum of preparation such as freshening up or even running a brush through her hair. She didn't see how the girl was ever going to find a husband with such a complete disregard for how she presented herself.

-==0==-

"You think this is the place?" Bethany asked quietly when roughly fifty feet away she saw a man-made opening in the side the rocky hills that the sandy path hugged along the coast.

Varric shrugged. "Hard to say. It's not like they're gonna hang a sign out front advertising their business." With a grin he gestured with his hands as if framing a sign and declared, "'Slaves 'R' Us' - Serving the Free Marches since 9:07 Dragon'."

That drew a deeper scowl to Fenris' face. The elven warrior was hypersensitive about anything regarding slavery, so even a casual joke was enough to darken his mood. However, he said nothing, opting instead to kick at loose rubble on the ground in front of him.

"Regardless," Isabela began, "_something_ is going on in there. We should check it out."

"How do you know that?" Merrill asked. The others turned their attentions to the Rivaini rogue as well.

Isabela motioned towards the ground in front of the makeshift entrance. "Foot prints. More than one person coming and going by the looks of things. With as windy as it is out here, the blowing sand would quickly cover up any tracks, so I'd say those were made very recently."

Bethany nodded in agreement while silently scolding herself in the process for not noticing that detail on her own. Malcolm Hawke had ensured that all of his children had the skills to survive in the wild, and even though Bethany knew she couldn't match her siblings as a scout, she still had pride in her skills. The thought that city living had dulled her acuity for such things came to mind, but she quickly dismissed that notion because she knew without a doubt that Miri would have noticed the tracks and come to the same conclusion as Isabela. She resolved to be more attentive.

Unbeknownst to the younger Hawke, Varric had much the same internal reaction to Isabela's observations. And like Bethany, he found his thoughts drifting towards Misery. He couldn't pinpoint when or why it happened, but he realized that somewhere along the way in the couple of months since they'd met, the taciturn rogue had begun to matter more to him than simply being an expedition funding source.

Misery could push his buttons and frustrate him nearly as much as Bartrand at times, but he was growing fond of the woman he caught only occasional glimpses of, the one she kept hidden most of the time beneath that prickly exterior of hers. He found himself wishing that Sunshine would have talked her into coming along on this little quest anyway, even though he strongly suspected it would have been tense in light of the previous day.

When everyone seemed to acknowledge Isabela's point but not act on it, Merrill asked, "We are going in then?" and began moving towards the cavern.

Isabela's eyes flitted back and forth between Bethany and Varric, trying to determine who was going to take the lead here. She knew she was the most experienced in the group for that role, however, she also recognized the unspoken understanding that Bethany was the one in charge here. It was easy for the Rivaini to see that Bethany was inexperienced when it came to leadership and didn't feel completely comfortable with issuing commands. Instead, the mage tried to build a consensus for making a decision, and asked almost apologetically when she wanted someone to do something.

Consensus building could be a very effective method and was great for maintaining morale because it gave others a voice in the decision making process. However, Isabela had learned over the years what all good, experienced leaders eventually learn. Sometimes circumstances dictated a more direct approach, for the leader to shift from being a facilitator to being a commander. Walking into potential danger was clearly one of those times. So in the interest of her own short and long-term health, the rogue made the decision to step up since neither Bethany nor Varric were doing so.

"Varric," Isabela began, "you have point since you have the best eye for spotting traps. Fenris, I want you close behind, watching his back. Bethany and Merrill, hang back about ten feet from them. Stay alert and be ready to do your thing if we come across anyone, because we're most likely going to be attacked on sight. The pup and I will cover the rear and make sure no one gets the drop on us from behind. We can get to the front quickly enough if necessary."

After she finished speaking, Isabela intently observed the body language of her companions to gauge their reactions to her issuing orders. Other than a brief rising of Varric's eyebrows in curiosity, no one seemed to question it. And the dwarf's expression bore no resistance to Isabela taking the lead.

"That sounds for the best to me," Bethany replied, affirming the rogue's decision. "Let's go."

-==0==-

Misery ambled through the entry hall of the Viscount's Keep, uncaring of the attention her presence was drawing from the guards and people who worked at the keep. Some of the guards knew she was an associate of the guard-captain's, while others only saw a somewhat disheveled but very well-armed, dangerous looking woman. Many eyes followed her as she climbed the steps to the second floor and moved towards the section of the keep that housed the City Guard.

"Good luck getting in, I've been waiting all day," a woman outside the barracks declared snidely as Misery passed by.

The rogue stopped in her tracks and glared back. "You were here spouting the same thing the last time I was here. If whatever you are here for is so fucking important that you'll stand around day after day bitching about the wait, stop being so damned helpless and just go inside."

"I-I…" the woman stuttered. Her mouth closed and opened several times but she was unable to voice her thoughts.

Misery shook her head. "I'll be getting in now, without waiting. Goodbye." And without waiting for a response from the woman either, she turned and descended the steps leading into the barracks.

Entering the main room of the barracks, Misery saw Aveline in a discussion with a guardswoman she remembered was named Brennan. Aveline affixed Misery with a tense glare.

"In my office, Hawke. I'll be there in a few minutes."

-==0==-

Aveline scowled as she entered her office to find Hawke sitting in a chair with her feet propped up on the desk. Rather than scold the girl, she closed the door and then walked between the desk and the chair directly into Misery's legs, knocking her feet off the desk and almost dumping her out of the chair in the process. The guard-captain ignored the glare she received as she circled around the desk and grabbed a stack of papers.

"You look like shit," Aveline said bluntly.

"You going to tell me why you dragged me out of bed and are kicking me around?"

In response, Aveline reached across the desk and threw the stack of papers into the rogue's lap.

"What's this?" the rogue asked while skimming over the first page.

"Carnage!" Aveline answered bitterly. "Five different incidents in Lowtown overnight totaling eleven dead, and another incident in Hightown added eight more. And I'm sure you'll be sad to hear this, but Athenril was one of the ones in Hightown."

Misery rolled her eyes. "So what's the big emergency?"

"I think I know now who the Shadow is. And I'm _not_ happy about it."

"Oh? I figured you'd be happy you finally figured it out." Despite her aloof demeanor, Misery was getting nervous about where this was going.

"Don't patronize me!"

Aveline opened one of her desk drawers and withdrew an item that she slammed down on the desk. "Recognize it?"

"Sure… looks like the type of bolt Bianca takes. Are you saying she's the Shadow?"

"What did I just say about patronizing me? This was taken from Athenril's corpse. Varric must have killed her."

"And?"

"Think about it!" Aveline exclaimed. "Remember how he acted like he knew something when we were discussing the Shadow at the Hanged Man? He said he thought the Shadow would go away on their own if my guards were doing their jobs. Either he is the Shadow or he knows who is."

Aveline paused as realization of what Hawke said a few moments earlier finally sank in. "Wait a minute… '_finally _figured it out'? Damn you, you already knew he was the Shadow and didn't tell me!"

Misery sighed, putting her face in her hand briefly. "I can confirm Varric killed Athenril because I was there. He did it before I could do it myself. That scene your guards would have found outside the Rose? Six of the dead were Coterie that Athenril and some of her people fought, and the last victim was one of her crew. All but Athenril were already dead when we returned from doing the job for her."

"You know I had no love for Athenril, but you realize you're admitting to being an accomplice to a murder?"

"And admitting I didn't get the chance to carry it out myself!" Misery hissed in defiance.

Aveline shook her head. "Do I even want to know what prompted it?"

"It was too long in coming as it was. And yesterday she didn't like the way I handled the job for her, so she threatened to kill me if she ever saw me again and to sell the rest of my family into slavery afterwards."

"Fine, I'll give you that one," the guard-captain grumbled reluctantly. "But what about Lowtown?"

"What about it? Did you find any evidence there?"

"Not directly, but the victims have the tell-tale signs of having been taken down by an archer. A lack of struggle suggests most never saw it coming. Look at the reports, Hawke. All of them were gang members, including the leaders of a couple of the gangs. One was a dirtbag from the Crimson Oars named Oliver Feldman. The other was Ogando Feliz of the Rivaini Raiders. They were all stripped of their gear and coin purses, and I assume Varric retrieved his quarrels from the bodies in the process because those were gone as well. It completely fits the Shadow's profile."

Misery resisted the urge to roll her eyes, not wanting to invite scrutiny. She also realized that Aveline had effectively built her entire case off of the mistaken assumption that the events in Lowtown and Hightown were related.

"So… what now? Are you going to drag Varric in and interrogate him?"

"Not yet. I need more proof. And that's where you come in."

"Come again?"

"He seems to trust you, so get him to talk."

"Why would I do that?" Misery asked incredulously. "Look, let's imagine for a moment that Varric is the Shadow. He is my link to Bartrand's expedition and I _need _that expedition. You can't expect me to throw that away. Not when the only danger of the Shadow being loose is further sullying the reputation of the City Guard."

Aveline rubbed her temples, trying to nurse the tension headache that was rapidly setting in.

"Misery…" she said in a softer tone, "this goes higher up than me. The viscount's office is nervous about the public perception that the City Guard isn't in control of the streets. And it's not just Lowtown either. Similar incidents have happened in Hightown and down at the Docks, always under the cover of night."

Misery scoffed. "Yet the streets are safer than they have been the entire time we've been in Kirkwall. I don't hear anyone outside of this keep complaining about that, especially when it's common knowledge the Shadow only goes after thugs."

"I am not blind to that, and I know you think this is just a matter of pride to me. But the situation is bigger than that. With the added tension created by the qunari holed up in that compound by the Docks, and the increased pressure on the viscount coming from Knight-Commander Meredith… there is a growing fear about the city's political stability, about Viscount Dumar's ability to maintain order. I need your help with this."

"So let me get this straight. You are asking me to sacrifice my family's way out of Lowtown for the good of Dumar? Seriously?"

"I… understand what I'm asking. But I'm taking a lot of heat for this. The viscount's office is demanding results, immediately. Look, it took some arguing, but Seneschal Bran approved paying a reward of ten sovereigns for successful capture of the Shadow. For obvious reasons it won't be an advertised bounty."

Misery sighed deeply. She was in an impossible situation and she knew it. "If this whole 'Shadow' business goes away, will things settle down for you on their own? Or are you dead set on pushing the issue?"

Aveline's eyes narrowed slightly. "The viscount wants a head to roll as a public demonstration of control. As guard-captain I'm telling you it's my obligation to continue the investigation and to make an arrest if possible, whether you cooperate or not. I'm doubling the nighttime patrols and stationing lookouts at strategic locations on top of buildings. I suspect the attacks must be coming from the rooftops for the victims to be so consistently taken by surprise."

The redhead looked down, drawing in a long breath that she exhaled slowly. She shook her head before looking up and meeting Misery's gaze and continuing, "As your friend I'll say this… if the Shadow killings stop immediately it's unlikely I'll find enough to make a case… and I'll just have to live with that and hope the viscount and seneschal find something else to worry about."

Misery nodded while chewing on her bottom lip in consternation. The guardswoman misinterpreted her expression and softly added, "Just think about it, Misery. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important. And I think I've been your friend a lot longer than Varric has."

"You've been taking lessons on inflicting guilt from my mother, haven't you?"

Aveline chuckled. "Speaking of Leandra, how did she take it that you didn't go out to the coast with Bethany? I imagine it didn't go over well."

"Bethany only told her she and the others were searching outside of town for a missing kid. Mother still wasn't happy, but it wasn't as bad as it could have been since she has no idea what's really going on. And apparently neither do I, since I thought you'd have gone with her. I was so focused on what happened with Athenril that I never bothered to ask who she was taking."

"I would have gone if not for the other big problem going on in the viscount's office. If you're interested there could be a well paying job."

Misery raised an eyebrow curiously, silently prompting the guardswoman to continue.

"We suspect that Viscount Dumar's son has been kidnapped by a qunari, though we don't have a lot of information yet. I can take you over to see Seneschal Bran about it if you want. I know you have no love for Kirkwall politics, but gaining the appreciation of the viscount could go a long way towards getting the Amell estate back."

A number of thoughts went through the rogue's mind. The coin would get her that much closer to her own goal, but Aveline was right in that just as importantly she might be able to get her mother an audience with the viscount if she was successful in recovering his kid.

"Sure…" she finally answered. "Let's go see the seneschal."

Aveline shook her head. "First things first, I'm authorizing you to use the wash facilities here in the barracks. Go get cleaned up."

"You are serious?"

"I'm _not _taking you in front of the seneschal looking and smelling like something the cat dragged in."

Misery rolled her eyes. "Yes, Mother." Despite her reaction, she complied and got up from the chair, leaving Aveline's office to go get a bath.

-==0==-

Fenris roared in equal parts anger and pain. The group hadn't ventured very far into the cavern before entering a circular room flanked on either side by stairs and wooden platforms and being besieged by a host of slavers. The menacing appearance of the elf wielding a greatsword immediately drew the aggression of a number of enemies, and he was feeling every bit the meat shield he cynically expected to be when he saw the composition of the group making this trip.

He spun to his left, towards the attacker that had just sliced into his side, smashing the weighted pommel of his sword into the faceguard of the enemy swordsman's iron helm. The blow staggered the man back, but before Fenris could follow up he was beaten to the punch by Merrill, whose chain lightning tore into the foe and dropped him in a sizzling heap.

Fenris felt the warmth of magical healing washing over him, something he was grudgingly grateful for. He spun back the other direction in time to see another enemy drop from a triplet of bolts ripping through her leather chestpiece. He caught sight of another charging swordsman out of the corner of his eye and turned again, just in time to get his blade up to parry an incoming strike aimed at his head. He gritted his teeth at the vibration from the blow being transferred through the hilt into his hands, making them sting, but he fought through it.

Bethany, who had followed Isabela through the fray and climbed the stairs on the left of the room as they had entered it, swung her staff at a warrior that was attempting to hit her rogue companion from behind. The loud _crack_ of the staff connecting with the metal armor alerted Isabela to the presence behind her.

The Rivaini sidestepped the incoming thrust of a blade from the slaver in front of her, a grim smile forming at the choked gasp that came from the man behind her when his companion's sword ran him through. Before the enemy in front of her could recover from the shock of killing his friend, Isabela lashed out with both of her daggers, the sweep of the twin blades slashing his throat. She then took off running towards a woman with a crossbow that was firing on the rest of the group below.

Bethany's eyes narrowed in concern at the sight of slavers charging at her from either side. She swept her staff and sent a spirit blast that hit the one to her right and stopped him in his tracks. However, before she could get turned to the other side she felt the searing pain from a slash to the outside of her upper arm. The slaver grabbed her while she was momentarily distracted by the injury and slammed her back into the wall.

"Knock her out!" she heard the slaver she'd hit with the spirit blast grunt out painfully. "We'll sell the bitch along with the other one!"

She raised her knee and kicked hard at the knee of the man pinning her to the wall, eliciting a satisfying scream from the force of impact bending the knee backwards further than it wanted to go naturally. As the other slaver lunged forward to help secure her, she muttered a few quick words and cast a mind blast. Her eyes opened wide in surprise when rather than simply stunning those in close range like normal, the two slavers went flying over the railing of the platform and to their deaths when they hit the stone below.

Bethany slid down the wall into a sitting position. "H-how did I do that?" she asked no one in particular while grasping her wounded arm and catching her breath for a moment. A sharp bark from Revas got her attention, and she looked up to see another slaver running at her from the opposite direction. Before she could get to her feet, however, Revas leapt to intercept the attacker, knocking the woman down and mauling her.

The mage went to the railing and looked down to take inventory of the situation. A sigh of relief unconsciously escaped her lips when she realized it was over. Varric was already handing out healing potions as the others regrouped. They hadn't gotten through unscathed, but fortunately no one appeared to be seriously hurt. Wearily she went with Revas to join the others.

-==0==-

Aveline and Misery walked to the other side of the keep where Viscount Dumar's office was located. On the way, the guardswoman filled her friend in on what had transpired the previous day with the slaver, including what Anders had pulled.

On the one hand, the knowledge that Bethany and Anders got into a tiff and that he wasn't accompanying her to the Wounded Coast pleased Misery, even though she knew it was petty to be like that. But on the other hand, her practical side was more concerned about Bethany's mission than she had been, because personal feelings aside, Anders was a much stronger healer and was a tide turner in battle with his abilities to augment his companions' health and skill. She was starting to regret not putting her pride aside and insisting on going with her sister.

Approaching the viscount's office, the pair took notice of an exasperated Seneschal Bran standing outside the closed door in a rather heated discussion with what appeared to be a mercenary judging by the blood red leather armor and the pair of daggers she was armed with.

"I don't care what you _insist_," Bran said snidely to the scowling female arguing with him. "Viscount Dumar is not seeing _anyone_ right now, so if you have news about Saemus you'll need to relay it through _me_."

The woman threw up her hands in disgust. "Fine, tell Dumar my scouts have tracked his boy and the qunari to a location on the Wounded Coast about a half day's journey from here. I'm taking a full company with me, and when I bring the kid back I want Dumar to make a big display of rewarding me."

"So many to deal with one qunari seems rather… excessive."

"He may be Tal-Vashoth. The Winters leave nothing to chance."

With that, the woman began to storm away. Her eyes narrowed further in anger at the two women more or less blocking her path. "Get out of my bloody way!" she growled while striding towards them.

Misery stood her ground, and with a forearm shiver knocked the woman on her rear when she attempted to force Misery to step aside by plowing ahead through her.

The woman glared incredulously at Misery, clearly not used to people not backing down to her intimidating demeanor. She quickly got to her feet and leaned in close to the other rogue.

"You obviously do not know who you are messing with," the woman said in an aggressive tone.

"Get the fuck out of my face before I show you the shortcut to the ground floor," Misery replied icily, gesturing to the waist high wall of this loft overlooking the main hall below.

Aveline pushed her way between the two women. "I suggest you move on," she told the mercenary, throwing her own weight around with a gesture to the insignia emblazoned across her chestplate that designated her as Captain of the Guard.

The mercenary's scowl only grew deeper. "We'll meet again," she called out ominously while stalking off, not waiting for a reply to her parting shot.

Seneschal Bran sighed audibly. "Yes, Captain?"

Aveline's eyes followed the mercenary to the stairs before she turned to address the viscount's assistant. "Seneschal Bran, this is the friend I told you about. If anyone can locate Saemus and get him back, it's her."

"Misery Hawke," the rogue said with a slight nod.

Bran rolled his eyes. "In case your ears failed you, Captain, the Winters claim to have already located him and his qunari captor on the Wounded Coast. That was their leader, _Serah_ Ginnis."

"Winters?" Aveline asked.

"Yes, a group out of Nevarra that is hungry for a foothold in Kirkwall. And they do not care one whit if Saemus is returned unharmed." Bran sighed deeply before turning his attention to Misery. "If you would like to try your hand at securing his safe return, by all means feel free. I have certainly not granted any exclusivity to the Winters and their violent approach."

Misery shrugged. "What are his captors asking for?"

"We have heard nothing since he was taken."

"Have you asked the qunari leader about it?" the rogue asked.

Bran scowled. "Their Arishok says he knows nothing of it, that he authorized no kidnapping. He also refuses to acknowledge anything done by their rebels, the Tal-Vashoth. Apparently they are hunted anyway. That does not bode well for Saemus."

Seeing the frown that crept across her friend's face, Aveline turned and asked, "What are you thinking?"

"A kidnapping is usually accompanied by a ransom demand. If you don't know what the kidnapper wants, do you actually know the kid was kidnapped?"

The seneschal shifted a bit uncomfortably on his feet. "The issue is admittedly complicated by it being known that Saemus is… of a sympathetic mind to the qunari."

Misery snorted, a smirk replacing the previous frown. "And there we have it. He ran off on his own, didn't he?"

"_Hawke…_" Aveline said in a low, stern voice. The implication behind the tone was clear – _behave_.

Bran bristled visibly. "Saemus may have placed himself in danger, but it is danger nonetheless. And it is of utmost importance to Viscount Dumar to see his son returned safely."

"So now that that merc told you where he is, I assume you are going to send the guard in full force?" Misery asked.

"No, if we used guards for this it would allow the viscount's opponents to claim this response by the city admits the qunari threat. In these times, public embarrassment is preferable to official embarrassment."

Misery scoffed. "So this is all a matter of maintaining proper appearances then," she said knowingly.

"I am surprised you are astute enough to make that connection yourself," Bran replied, the sarcasm practically dripping from his tone.

"What does Dumar expect when he named the kid 'Shame Us'? That's pretty much a dare to go ahead and do just that."

"_Hawke…_" Aveline growled a little more forcefully than before.

Bran sighed in exasperation. He was beyond tired of dealing with wannabe bounty hunters. "Says the woman named 'Misery'. Are we done here?"

"I want one other thing if I bring Saemus back unharmed."

"Of course you do," he replied sarcastically.

Misery ignored the barb. "My mother is on some kind of waiting list for an audience with the viscount regarding her Hightown estate being illegally sold out from under her while she was living in Ferelden. I want her to get that audience immediately."

"Yes, well, the reward goes to whoever brings Saemus back, a matter you can discuss with the Winters on the Wounded Coast should you care to, since they already have a head start on you. Good day, Serah, Captain."

With that he turned his back, indicating the conversation was over. He had only suffered this one as long as he did because she was with the guard-captain.

"Let's go, Hawke," Aveline ordered, giving her friend a slight shove to get her moving towards the stairs.

Misery sighed. "We'll leave in the morning whether the others are back or not. I'm not asking Anders to go with just you and me, so if the others aren't back we'll need to run into them along the trail and see who can continue on with us. Wear something nondescript if you need to hide who you are."

"Got it. I'll see you at the usual time and place."

-==0==-

"Dammit!" Varric groused in frustration. He was trying to get into a locked chest and it was giving him all kinds of trouble.

Isabela laughed. "What's the matter? Your meathooks too big to maneuver the picks into place?"

He stood up, flashing an indignant look. "If you think you can do better, by all means have at it."

The dark-skinned rogue swayed her hips purposefully as she sauntered over and knelt before the storage chest. It only took about fifteen seconds before a clicking noise was immediately accompanied by the sound of the latch springing open. Isabela flipped the lid and then stood up and smiled, flirtatiously batting her eyelashes.

"Oooh, you are good at that!" Merrill exclaimed in appreciation of the rogue's skill.

Isabela winked at the pair of female mages standing side by side, holding her hand out in front of her and wiggling her fingers. "These are _magical_ when it comes to working in tight spots," she replied suggestively. "Or so I'm told, anyway."

The remark earned an eye rolling from Bethany, while the elven mage completely missed the innuendo behind it.

"Come on, let's keep going," Varric said in a flat tone. He wasn't going to admit that Isabela wasn't that far off the mark in pointing out his fat fingers being a detriment to working more advanced locks. But at the same time, he wasn't happy with her showing him up.

A short distance later, they entered another large circular open area. "Take one more step and the boy dies!" a male with an Antivan accent snidely called out.

The group stopped and looked to their right, where up on a platform a red haired man was holding a sword to the throat of a blond boy who appeared to be in his mid-teens. This slaver was obviously the leader of this group.

"Feynriel!" Merrill gasped, covering her mouth with her hand.

Bethany gulped slightly. "I'm open to suggestions if you guys have any…" she said softly so only her companions could hear.

Varric waved his hand theatrically. "Threatening the viscount of Kirkwall's son, really? Not the smartest move, I'll tell you that."

"What?" the slaver asked, his eyes widening in surprise.

Varric continued the ruse. "Oh, I suppose you just got a tip from some slaver that he was selling mage-flesh on the cheap. You never even thought to ask where he got it, did you? You never even realized that you were buying the love child of Viscount Dumar and his elven mistress, the boy he swore to protect at all costs? He's prepared to raze the entire Free Marches to get his son back if he has to."

The slaver shifted uncomfortably, the concern on his face more than obvious. "I seek no war here." He scowled and swore to himself in frustration before continuing, "Take the lad to his father." He intended to make sure that idiot Danzig paid for this, not knowing the slaver mage was already dead.

Bethany folded her arms over her chest, flashing a stern glare as she tried to follow Varric's lead and play her part. "Send him down then."

The slaver nodding curtly. He lowered the sword in acquiescence and nodded at Feynriel to go to the others. As the half-elven, half-human boy cautiously moved away from the older man, the slaver sighed and reached into his pack for a pouch of coin.

"Here…" he said, tossing the small purse to Varric, who caught it. "Please accept this as… a peace offering."

Varric nodded. "I'll let the viscount know you were cooperative. But you probably should consider taking your operations elsewhere." When Feynriel reached them, Merrill took him by the arm and the group left the way they came.

Fenris fumed, burning with fury that they let the rest of the slavers live. The numbers were roughly what the previous battle had been, and he was confident the results would have been similar.

When they got a safe distance away, Merrill sighed in relief, turning and embracing the boy. "Oh, Feynriel! Do you know how worried your mother is?"

"Merrill… who are these others with you? Are you working with the templars?"

Bethany shook her head. "We are friends." She held out her hand and let her magical energy flow, creating a ball of fire and just as quickly letting it dissipate.

Feynriel sighed in relief. "Thank you…" he said softly.

"I imagine your mother will be very relieved that you are safe," Bethany suggested.

"Hah! I can't believe her! A few bad dreams and all of a sudden a lifetime of promises to protect me are gone and it's off to the templars!"

"Demon possession is not something to play around with Feynriel," Bethany replied. "It's a real danger. We're not going to force you to go to the Circle, but you need help. You need to be with people that can train you to master your skills."

Feynriel bowed his head, closing his eyes briefly before opening them and looking back up. "I… I was trying to reach the Dalish," he admitted. "Merrill, you told me how the Dalish have had magic forever. I-I thought if I could go to them, the keeper could help me. I would be able to find a place there that I could never find in the city. I'm as much Dalish as I am human."

Merrill sighed deeply. "Your humanity will mark you as an outsider among the Dalish, not your magic. However, I do think Keeper Marethari would be willing to help you."

"Great!" Feynriel exclaimed. "I will go straight there!"

Varric scoffed, thinking to himself just how stupid this kid was. "You've got no chance of finding the Dalish clan, let alone getting there on your own."

"I can make it!"

"No, you cannot," Merrill replied, affixing Feynriel with a solemn stare. "The journey to the summit of Sundermount is fraught with danger even for a group experienced in traveling the wild."

Varric nodded in agreement. "Look, Kid. You have no weapons, no control over your magic, no provisions for the several day journey, and no knowledge of navigating Sundermount to get to the Dalish camp. And even if you managed to overcome all of that, the Dalish hunters tend to shoot first and ask questions later when humans show up on their doorstep. No offense, Daisy."

"None taken. You are correct about that," the elf admitted.

"So, where does that leave me?" Feynriel asked, throwing up his hands in exasperation.

It was Bethany's turn to sigh deeply. She knew the answer, but also knew it was going to be unpleasant. She made eye contact with Varric, who guessed from her expression what she was thinking.

"You know she's not going to be happy about it," he stated knowingly.

"Of course I do… I know my sister better than anyone."

Varric rubbed his face. "Okay, kid. We're going back to Kirkwall."

"What?" Feynriel asked incredulously. "I can't go back there. The templars are looking for me!"

Bethany gestured for the boy to calm down. "We're going to make sure you get to the Dalish camp, but that's not a trip you undertake at a moment's notice. We can't take a week's detour by Sundermount without preparing first."

Merrill frowned. "I will tell Arianni that Feynriel is going to stay with my clan. She will not like it, but hopefully she will see it is a better option than the Circle."

"Right," Fenris began, scoffing openly. "Because out of control mages should remain a danger to themselves and others."

"He will receive training to control his magic," Merrill answered back.

"And no Dalish mage has ever been corrupted?"

"Enough bickering," Isabela said. "It sounds like a decision has been made."

Merrill nodded. "Feynriel, you will stay with me until it is time to leave for Sundermount. I will bring your mother to see you so you can say goodbye."

Feynriel nodded slowly. "I understand. Knowing that you will help me get there soon is enough. We can go back to the city for now."

-==0==-

Isabela moved down the hallway towards her room in the Hanged Man. It wasn't long after dark, but she was more than ready to lie down and rest for awhile. She was absentmindedly thinking again about the relic until a voice she recognized coming from inside a room with an open door caught her attention. She stopped outside the door, out of the line of sight from the people inside the room, and listened.

"So, I'm not going to be able to do this anymore, at least not for a long time," the voice Isabela recognized said. "I've heard the viscount wants my head for creating the perception that the Guard isn't in control of the streets."

A scoff sounded like it came from an older woman. "Dumar is an idiot. Still, I understand. Here, take this as a bonus. You have done more for Lowtown and Kirkwall in general than we could have ever imagined. You are a hero to us, regardless of what they think in the Viscount's Keep."

"Well… don't put me on a pedestal. I have been doing it because I need the coin you've been so generous with."

The older woman laughed lightly. "Regardless of your motivations, _Shadow_, you have been a friend and we are grateful for your help. It has been a very long time since the streets were as safe as they are now."

Isabela's eyes grew wide at the revelation she'd just heard.

The other occupant of the room chuckled. "Hopefully the Guard will take it from here and keep them safe. And hopefully I won't have to hear that stupid name anymore."

"Farewell to the Shadow then. Thank you, again."

At the sound of footsteps coming towards the door, Isabela pushed off the wall, turned to face the door, and waited. She folded her arms across her chest as a smirk took hold. This was just too good not to enjoy.

"I'd never have guessed it was you," Isabela stated.

The bounce in the step of the one who just came out of the room was immediately deflated. Seeing the knowing expression on the Rivaini's face, it was obvious she had overheard. "Fuck…"

Isabela laughed at the hand caught in the cookie jar expression on the other rogue's face. "I'm guessing our favorite red haired Captain of the Guard has no idea, does she?"

Misery shook her head, replying matter-of-factly, "And it's going to stay that way."

Shrugging as if to say it didn't matter to her, Isabela resumed walking towards her room. Misery grabbed her arm on the way by to stop her.

"Hey… I… I need to apologize for yesterday. I don't want to talk about why it happened, but I never should have left you and Varric like I did. You have my word that it will never happen again."

Isabela smirked. She leaned in as if she was going to kiss the other woman, and when Misery turned her head to avoid it, Isabela spoke softly into her ear. "Apology accepted, _Shadow._"

With that she pulled away, winking at Misery, who wasn't quite sure what to make of what just transpired. Turning and again walking towards her room, Isabela added, "By the way, the mission was a success. You'll want to go talk to Varric and your sister though. They're planning a visit to the Dalish in the next couple days."

Misery couldn't help the groan that escaped, which drew more laughter from the Rivaini rogue that was now letting herself into her room.

After Isabela disappeared into her room and closed the door, Misery slowly made her way back towards the stairs leading down to the tavern part of the establishment. She stopped near the top of the stairs, debating the path to take. Seeing the door to his suite open, she knew she should turn left and go apologize to Varric and find out more about what Isabela said. But she was hesitant, knowing that Varric was likely to press her uncomfortably for details.

Even worse, she felt herself almost _wanting _to tell him. Not about DuPuis, of course, but more generally about the things that burdened her, about how tired she felt at times carrying the weight of everyone needing her and expecting her to always come through successfully, and yet at the same time how scared she felt at the thought of not being needed.

Misery shook her head, sighing deeply. _Pull yourself together…_ she told herself, attempting to suppress those emotions once again. She waited a few moments until she was satisfied that her normal composure had returned, then with another deep breath she strode towards Varric's room.


	17. Through the Eyes of the Dwarf

"Why would they call it Blackmarsh?" Varric asked, chuckling with incredulity. "Kinda ruins any appeal in going there. Maybe they should've called the place 'Beermarsh'? Nah… that doesn't work either."

Anders joined in on the laughter before responding, "I think 'marsh' in the name ends any shot at redemption. Kittenmarsh? Flowermarsh? Nope, still doesn't work."

Misery froze in her tracks as she entered the room and unexpectedly found Anders sitting at the table drinking with Varric. Out in the hallway she had semi-rehearsed what she wanted to say. She was still conflicted about whether or not she even wanted to see Varric right now, and if she hadn't already been at the Hanged Man she likely would have put it off until the last minute, when they were gathering to leave for the Wounded Coast. Much as she had with Isabela, she intended to apologize quickly and succinctly without inviting further questions about the previous day. The presence of Anders derailed that plan, causing her to start over in her mind.

The sound of footsteps drew both men's attention. Their mirth faded when they saw who it was, the lighthearted moment shattered. An uncomfortable silence took hold as none of the three knew what exactly to say. After what seemed like a much longer time than it really was, Anders slowly stood up and said to Varric, "I think I should go now. Thanks for the advice earlier."

The mage avoided eye contact with the female as he moved past her. He didn't get out the door, however, before Misery stopped him.

"Anders? Are you available to go to the Wounded Coast early in the morning? We're going out there to retrieve the viscount's son and I'm expecting it to be a lot of trouble."

"I…" he began before pausing. He glanced back at Varric, who merely shrugged.

Misery scowled at the interplay between the two men. "Andraste's ass! Never mind then, forget I asked."

"Fine…" he grumbled and resumed walking towards the door.

"Hold up, Blondie," Varric said. "Hawke, go a little easier on him."

"I am _not _twisting his arm to go."

Anders huffed. "Believe it or not, it's not always about _you_. Not that you gave me a chance to explain."

"Whatever happened between you and Bethany is for you two to work out," she replied knowingly. Aveline had told her of the tiff between the two mages. "Don't make it my business by hurting her. Anyway, I'm concerned with the prospects of running into a band of mercs spoiling for a fight."

"Why's that?" Varric asked.

"A group called the Winters is also going after Saemus. I didn't exactly hit it off with their leader when I ran into her outside the viscount's office. Well, more accurately, she ran into me and I knocked her on her ass. She threw some attitude back at me, I offered to throw her off the balcony… anyway, if we cross paths out on the coast I don't doubt she'll have her people attack us on sight."

Anders still wasn't happy, but he smirked as a thought came to mind. "Are you sure you didn't just get into it with a reflection in the mirror? Or your long lost twin?"

Varric chuckled while shaking his head. "That's not helping, you know."

Misery silently reminded herself that she didn't care what Anders thought of her personally. She wasn't inviting him because she thought he was a friend, it was because she considered him useful enough to tolerate.

When the female rogue didn't seem inclined to say anything in reply, Varric looked back at Anders and added, "Come on, how about I buy you room for the night. It'll save you hoofing it back to Darktown only to turn around and come right back on short rest."

Anders raised an eyebrow curiously at the dwarf for pushing his decision along. After all, most of the time he'd been here was spent talking about how unsure he was that Bethany would want to see him anytime soon after he'd lied to her the previous day. Finally he sighed in resignation and nodded.

"Alright… I'll go with you tomorrow. But there's no need to pay for a room. I can just crash here on the couch."

Varric wasn't certain if Misery came by to chat about more than a mission for the next day, but he did know what _he_ wanted to discuss. And it wasn't going to happen with Blondie or anyone else around.

"Sorry, Blondie, I have strict rules against guests spending the night." With a wink he continued, "Got my reputation to uphold and all. Go tell Norah I said to put a room for you on my tab and she'll make sure you're taken care of. I don't think even she could screw up that order."

It was a smoothly spun lie, but a better alternative to telling the truth as far as he was concerned, which was that Anders needed to leave so he could speak with Hawke in private. The lie was simple and didn't require over-explanation to keep feelings from getting hurt.

Anders shrugged. "Your coin I suppose. See you downstairs in the morning at the usual time then?"

"You got it."

Nodding at the dwarf, Anders left without saying anything else. Not that Misery noticed because she was continuing to stare at the floor, uninterested in contributing to the conversation. Once the mage was well out of ear shot, she softly said, "Thank you for getting him to leave."

Varric wasn't sure what to make of her mood. She seemed unusually reserved, tentative. Her appearance suggested she was exhausted, but he wondered if it was more than that.

"I figured you'd see right through that. Then again, you've stayed over before, so you already knew it wasn't exactly true."

When Misery responded only by looking up and nodding slightly, he gestured to a chair for her to sit down at the table. "Buy you a drink?" he asked.

"Maybe just some water," she replied while sitting down.

Varric laughed. "You realize the water here is worse for you than the ale, right?"

The slightest of smirks tugged on Misery's lips. "Point taken. Alright… ale it is." Knowing that as tired as she was it wouldn't take much for her to start feeling the effects, she made a mental note to limit herself to just the one drink.

"See, that's what I like about you, Hawke. Even on my silver you don't go for the fancy stuff. I buy most people a drink and they're asking for a Nevarran red, Antivan brandy, or other frilly, expensive stuff."

"Yeah, well… no sense developing a taste for something I could not afford on my own." Left unspoken was that she respected him enough not to take advantage.

"And a keen sense of practicality," he replied with a grin. "I'll be right back with those drinks."

-==0==-

Anders chuckled sarcastically after letting himself into the room he was given in the Hanged Man. It was dingy and minimalist, and looked an awful lot like the room attached to his Darktown clinic that he called home. While his shared quarters in Ferelden's Circle of Magi were even worse than this, there were times like now when he was reminded of what he no longer had with the Grey Wardens. For all of his dislike of darkspawn and the Deep Roads, he had a nice room of his own at Vigil's Keep and the camaraderie of several fellow wardens.

Even though becoming a Grey Warden was a matter of circumstance, a spur of the moment loophole to remain free of the Chantry, he'd grown to feel a sense of belonging in Amaranthine. The Grey Wardens didn't have a problem standing up to the Chantry for their right to have mages in their ranks, but even they wouldn't risk harboring abominations.

When he first arrived in Kirkwall, Anders was quick to tell people he was a Grey Warden. It was technically true, albeit misleading – they could take away his status, but they couldn't take away the taint that made him a warden. However, he didn't tell people he was a warden out of a sense of belonging. Instead it was a matter of practicality. The Grey Wardens had a mystique to them that usually resulted in people either going out of their way to help them or going out of their way to avoid them. On his own in Kirkwall and struggling with fear and depression, he was much more interested in the latter.

It didn't take long before the questions began to arise though. If he was a Grey Warden, what was he doing living in Darktown? Shouldn't he be off fighting darkspawn? And while many inhabitants of Darktown were grateful for the clinic he started and his healing magic, suspicions about who he was began to increase. The gangs began trying to shake him down, and more than once he received _offers_ of _protection_ against the Chantry finding out about the runaway mage in Darktown, forcing him to pay them off from his already meager funds.

That's when his story shifted and he admitted that he was a _former_ Grey Warden. He quickly realized that if he launched into a diatribe about the few things he didn't like about the wardens, people would automatically assume that he left them on his own. And for those that didn't, he would outright tell them he left of his own volition. Another lie.

He sighed bitterly. Lying was so natural to him that he rarely had cause to give it a second thought. Yet here he was, sitting in a Lowtown inn and tavern, in large part because of another lie that had consumed too much mental energy since the previous day.

He couldn't decide which was worse, that Bethany immediately figured out he lied about not being able to accompany her to the Wounded Coast, or that that she didn't care enough to call him on it. When he came over to chat with Varric, he hoped the dwarf would say she'd spoken out in anger regarding his absence from the Feynriel search, that she'd indicated she was upset with him. But no, according to Varric she'd dismissively stated that he couldn't be bothered to help and let the subject drop. After that she didn't bring up Anders' name again the rest of the day.

Anders knew how to deal with having made people angry. He was good at avoiding accountability by turning on the charm or making people feel sorry for him, whichever the situation called for. But knowing that Bethany wasn't one to shy away from making her feelings known, he felt the absence of anger meant one of two things – either she had been hurt to a point that went deeper than anger, or she'd decided he wasn't worth getting angry about. Neither option was good.

Regardless, after speaking with Varric he didn't see being able to charm his way out of trouble on this one.

More than anything though, he wished she would see things his and Justice's way. In some ways he felt she lacked perspective, never having seen the inside of a Circle of Magi firsthand to understand just how cruel it was. And as far as he was concerned, supporting the Chantry's imprisonment and abuses of _any _mage was a tacit endorsement of the system as a whole. He wondered if she was content enough with her own tenuous freedom not to care about the plight of the thousands of mages in captivity around Thedas, or at least content enough not to feel a sense of obligation to do anything about it.

Like helping to blow up the system, to ensure no mage would ever be oppressed by the Chantry again.

_I don't know how, but I need to help her see things my way, to make her understand there is no middle ground. _

It was a devious, sinuous thing, this subtle guiding of thought processes. Justice could bring the hammer down if the situation deemed it necessary, but more often the spirit was content to keep what was left of Anders unaware of its mental ministrations. There was far less resistance when its host believed the thoughts to be his own.

Anders sighed again. He and Justice had grandiose dreams but no design on a plan to get there. Blowing up the system was nothing but a figurative pipe dream at this point. Their current strategy of working the mage underground and sowing the seeds of dissent from within the Circle was a slow process that would take years to come to fruition. Yet he couldn't see a more feasible option.

Being relatively close to Gamlen's house, Anders debated going over to see Bethany and getting the uncomfortable apology out of the way before seeing her with everyone else in the morning. However, he couldn't talk himself into it. He rationalized it away that she was likely tired or even already asleep since they had an early day tomorrow, but the truth was that the more Justice subtly led his thoughts away from his lie and towards her tolerant attitude with respect to the Circle, the less at fault he felt.

So instead, he dumped his staff and supply pack on the small table and began preparing for bed.

-==0==-

As Varric returned with a couple of tankards, he observed the female rogue staring absentmindedly at the large portrait of the Hightown skyline on the wall while gently tracing her fingers over the surface of the Dalish amulet hanging from her neck. He remembered seeing her playing with the amulet like that a couple of times previously, and realized it was becoming her habit when fretting about something.

"You okay?" he asked as he sat down and slid one of the tankards across the table to her.

"Just… tired," she answered, settling on a half-truth. "Anyway… I stopped by to tell you about going after the viscount's son, to see how things went today, and… well, to apologize for running off on you and Isabela like I did. I won't do that again." As almost an afterthought, she added, "If I had it to do over again, I would have more strongly insisted on finishing the job alone."

Varric scoffed. "I would've just _more strongly_ refused to let you."

"It wasn't your decision to make!" she exclaimed, her temper igniting at his dismissive reaction. "You had no right to take killing that bitch away from me!"

An awkward silence settled over the room when Varric didn't immediately reply. He'd been right about Misery being angry that he killed Athenril, but he still didn't know how to explain why it happened.

"Look," he finally began, "I wasn't trying to take anything away from you. I'm sorry."

"You knew it was personal to me!"

Varric's own anger finally kicked in. "And just how would I know that? You never tell me anything!"

"It was obvious!"

"Point remains. You can't expect me to read your mind. Yesterday would have been a lot easier for both of us if you'd told me what was going on."

"It didn't concern you."

"Maybe not your business with Athenril, but refusing to even consider a potentially lucrative job for Hubert and refusing to offer any explanation at all for it damned well was my _concern_."

Misery scoffed. "You don't own me. I don't have to take a job if I don't want to."

"Own you? Maker's breath, we're partners! It's not unreasonable to expect you to at least explain why you didn't want to!"

"_No_, alright? I can't tell you, or anyone for that matter! If you can't accept that, then you need to find a new partner."

Varric eyed her carefully. He wondered why she said 'can't' instead of 'won't', and also what she was implying about finding a new partner. He decided to call her on it. "If you want out then why don't you just say so?"

"Who said I wanted out? Besides, I don't abandon my commitments."

"Yet you sound quite willing to have me let you out of it. No abandonment that way, right? Is that what you want?"

"No…" she replied softly.

"Good, because I'm not going anywhere and neither are you. I told you I had your back and I meant it."

Misery sighed and took another drink. It was what she wanted to hear, however, the problem was she was still convinced that the promise came with an expiration date.

Varric rubbed his face in frustration at her reaction. "When are you going to realize I'm your friend? That you can trust me?"

"I… I don't like this," she finally answered after several long moments.

"Like what?"

She took a deep breath that she blew out slowly before answering. "Caring… like feeling guilty for letting you down yesterday," she admitted quietly. "Or that I actually enjoy your company… most of the time."

Varric shook his head in disbelief both at the revelation itself and the fact she was saying she didn't like it. "Let me get this straight, you don't like… feeling human? You don't like having a friend? Maker's breath, you're making this entirely too complicated. I'm not proposing marriage here. How in the Void did you get so angst ridden that feeling comfortable around someone – you know, a _friend_ – makes you so damned _un_comfortable?"

"Did you skip the first day of class when we did introductions? I'm _Misery_," she answered in a tone laced with sarcasm. "So what is your angle here? Is it just the thrill of the challenge?"

"I swear you're the most stubborn person I've ever met. And with a rock-headed brother like Bartrand that's saying something. There's more to you than misery, even if you try so damned hard to hide it. My _angle_ is that I want to see that side of you more often. Ugh… this is giving me a headache… how do I even explain something as self-evident as why having a friend is a good thing to someone who would rather not care?"

"For how long, Varric?" Misery countered. "What happens when the expedition is over and you no longer have a use for me? I'll be just another 'I used to know this girl…' story for you to tell. So, no, I don't like that I even care enough to… care." She fell silent, her expression subtly shifting from defiance to melancholy as she broke eye contact and let her gaze fall to the tankard in front of her.

Varric sighed deeply, his frustration draining off as understanding finally took hold. Misery had once told him that she played things close to the vest because personal information was an exploitable commodity. At the time he assumed she was only referring to being taken advantage of or putting her family at risk. But now he understood there was more to it than that. She was also afraid of being vulnerable, scared that exposing her heart would only lead to her being hurt. So she did everything she could to shut herself off, neither allowing others in nor herself out.

He now wondered exactly how much of the aggression and hostility she typically displayed was really her and how much of it was just a means, conscious or unconscious, of keeping people from breaching her defenses.

Reflecting on what she said a minute ago, he remembered the times she hid injuries and stubbornly refused help, how she had cynically suggested that people only offered help when they wanted or needed something from her. And he remembered how she challenged him when he claimed he wasn't like that, how she'd leveled the same accusation then that she did now – that he was helping her only out of self-interest and once he had what he wanted he'd be gone from her life.

The first time that subject came up he'd barely known her. If he was being honest with himself, he'd admit that she was correct at the time. He had seen little to make him think it was anything but a mutually beneficial business arrangement and assumed they'd go their separate ways once the expedition was over. She _was _a means to an end… _then_.

But not anymore.

Now, she was… he wasn't sure what she was to him. A friend? He liked to think so anyway. But he also realized there was something with Misery that was different than how he felt about Rivaini, Daisy, or even Sunshine. He wouldn't call it infatuation, but he also wasn't letting himself follow any line of thought leading in that direction.

Varric had thought about her more in the last day than he'd care to admit. Intermingled with the worry he'd felt for her during and after the job for Athenril was his frustration with her. He'd recognized the look in her eyes before she ran off – she had felt betrayed, even though nothing could have been further from the truth. Despite knowing Misery was fairly consistent in expecting and assuming the worst of people, he'd still been hurt at not having earned enough benefit of the doubt for her to at least ask for an explanation.

He couldn't adequately make sense of the paradox she was to him. Misery often made him uncomfortable with her brash, volatile behavior, but he also felt unusually comfortable in her presence and didn't mind taking a backseat to her lead. She could be strangely naïve and unobservant at times, but she constantly impressed him with her keen attention to detail and insightfulness, particularly in the face of danger. She risked herself for others more often than she'd ever admit, yet went out of her way to convince everyone it was all driven by uncaring and selfish motivations.

One thing was certain though – she mattered to him in a way that had nothing whatsoever to do with Bartrand's expedition.

He took another long drink from his tankard before setting it down and sighing again. He couldn't help but wonder what happened to her in the past for her to be like this. But he knew right now he needed to deal with the present reality sitting across the table from him. Misery appeared indifferent to the length of time that had elapsed in silence she finished speaking, but he suspected she was awaiting his answer with great interest, and most likely an equally great skepticism.

"You don't get it, Misery," he finally replied in a soft tone. "Yes, we're business partners working towards a common goal. But that doesn't mean I have to spend my personal time with you. I do that because I _want_ to. Look, the expedition coming to an end probably _will_ change our working relationship, because if it goes according to plan we won't have to continue risking our lives all the time trying to raise money… but it _won't_ change that I like hanging out with you. I'm not planning on that changing unless that's what you want to happen."

Misery stared back skeptically. "Why should I think I will be any different?"

"Different than what?"

"You've lived in Kirkwall your whole life. You have story after story of people you _used_ to know, but other than Bethany and me and the people that have joined us since we met, who are your friends? Who exactly have you stuck by for the long haul? I never see you with anyone outside of our little group, and you don't talk about having other friends that you actively do things with. So tell me why I should believe you."

Varric's frustration was rekindling and he was losing the battle to keep it from seeping through to his body language and tone of voice. "Andraste's ass! Did you interrogate Aveline like this when she promised to stick with you in Kirkwall?"

"No."

"So you trusted her but not me?"

Misery ran her fingers through her hair while thinking of how to explain it. "Trust was irrelevant with her because whether or not she stuck around made no difference in how we interacted. And besides, when we arrived in Kirkwall and found out about the whole indentured servitude thing, I hardly knew her. We barely spoke to each other on the way to Gwaren or on the ship to Kirkwall. When she was in the mood for company she usually sought out my mother, which was fine by me. Aveline and I have never been the type of friends that feel the need to know everything about each other. Even now we speak little of the past, or of personal things, and we're both content with that."

"Okay, so is it a trust-"

"Uh, uh," Misery said, interrupting him. "Answer my question."

"The one about why you should believe me when I apparently have no other friends?"

When Misery nodded in response, Varric's eyes narrowed slightly. "My two best friends returned to the stone as my people say. Hjalmarr a couple years back, Rasmus six months ago."

"Returned to the stone? You mean like moved back to Orzammar?"

Varric chuckled humorlessly. "No, I mean they're dead. My closest living friend is a guy named Gerav, but I don't see him much anymore because he's still very active in the Carta. That's a lifestyle I left behind after Hjalmarr was sold out by an overly ambitious assassin he'd taken under his wing. Rasmus made the mistake of picking on the wrong mark down at the Docks; apparently didn't realize the girl was a mage and got fried to a crisp."

He shook his head when Misery's eyes widened at the implication. "I don't know that it was Sunshine and I'm not interested in finding out," he answered in response to the silent question. "There are other mages running around Kirkwall. I'll keep assuming it must have been someone else."

Misery nodded solemnly but didn't say anything, content to nurse her ale and wait for Varric to continue.

After a minute or so of silence, Varric knocked back the rest of his drink before gazing intently at the girl across the table. "I'll let you in on a little secret, Miz." Ignoring the curious stare from her regarding how he'd addressed her, he continued, "Shooting Athenril yesterday? In that moment I didn't give a shit about the expedition. That never even crossed my mind. All that mattered right then and there was protecting _you_. And if I had it to do over I'd shoot her again because you needed to _see_ that I've got your back when it matters."

Misery gulped slightly. She knew the warm feeling in her chest wasn't coming from the ale. Her barrier was being chipped away, and she realized her resolve to fight it was failing.

"I… I don't understand why this is so important to you," she admitted. "I've explained before why I don't like to reveal too much about myself, yet you persist in trying to get me to anyway. You may think it's stupid when you already know the secret that could cause the most trouble for my family, but…"

Varric held up his hand to interrupt. "I know you mean your sister, but honestly, you've got another secret I've been keeping safe that would be equally bad for your family if it got out."

"What do you mean?"

Varric smirked slightly. "Come on, I told you I know anything worth knowing in this city. And from the commoner all the way up to the viscount, two topics generate the most gossip, rampant speculation, and paranoia these days. One is the supposed Qunari problem. The other is you."

"Me?" Misery asked before pausing. After studying his knowing expression she sighed. "How long have you known? And how did you find out?"

"Oh, it wasn't that hard to put two and two together. I was with you the first time the lady down the hall paid you for taking out a group of gang members, remember? Then right after we got back from Sundermount you started dragging in exhausted a few days a week. It wasn't a coincidence that it was happening at the same time most of the gangs started coming under fire at night. So I had a guy who works for me watch your uncle's house and tell me if you were going out late at night."

Misery shook her head. "Who else knows?"

Varric laughed. "I doubt anyone does. I didn't tell my informant why I was interested in your comings and goings. But did you ever ask yourself who came up with the name 'Shadow' and started spreading the rumors about it?"

"You're kidding… that was you?"

"History is nothing but the best tales. They might as well be mine. Sorry about it turning into a shitstorm at the Viscount's Keep though."

Misery shook her head again. "Well, I should probably tell you that Aveline thinks you're the Shadow and is trying to guilt me into helping her prove it so she can arrest you."

"No offense, but she makes a better guard than a detective. I assume you're not letting me take the fall for it since you're telling me?"

"No, I let her believe what she wanted to believe without supporting or denying it. She admitted that the heat she's getting from the viscount's office would probably go away on its own if the Shadow killings stopped, so there you go… I'm done."

Varric nodded. "So… do you believe me now, that you can trust me?"

Misery sighed deeply while running her fingers through her hair again. "You realize the consequences of what you're asking of me, right? That if I give in to trusting you with personal stuff and you turn around later and stick it to me, or I find out getting me to lower my guard is some bet you've got with one of the others, this story will end very, very badly for you?"

"You know, threatening my life in exchange is not the most auspicious of starts," he replied, winking at his fellow rogue. "But believe me, there's no way I'd play games with something like this. I've seen more than enough to know messing with you is suicidal. So… friends? Not just business partners?"

"Don't expect me to change overnight and begin telling you everything. And if I tell you something is off limits I expect you to respect that."

In contrast to the outward appearance of calm reticence she displayed while dictating the terms of engagement was the happiness bubbling inside. Misery still had some lingering apprehension. That sort of thing wasn't going to instantly disappear. Her trepidation over investing her heart in a friendship only to have him trample on that once the expedition was over wasn't truly going to go away until the time came and he stuck around. And she didn't feel like she'd given him any reason to like her, so she didn't understand his motivation for wanting to be her friend, let alone his persistence in the face of her ongoing aloofness towards him and everyone else.

Still, she decided to take the risk anyway and already felt lighter from the lifting of a substantial amount of the loneliness she'd long been in denial about. She was very close to Bethany, of course, but there were too many things she couldn't talk to her about. Too many burdens she couldn't share. And as Misery would come to realize later, she had already trusted Varric. She only hadn't admitted that to herself until now.

A smirk began to tug at Misery's lips. "But, yeah… friends," she finally agreed.

-==0==-

Varric shook his head slightly as the group trudged along the winding path that hugged the shore of the Wounded Coast. Well, perhaps _trudged _wasn't quite right. The knowledge that their competition likely had a head start pushed their brisk pace. However, the collective mood was weighed down by dissension. That had set the tone for the day right from the outset, leaving Varric hoping that what his gut was telling him was wrong - that they should have called the mission off despite the potential gains.

It began with Aveline showing up at the Hanged Man first and giving the dwarf the evil eye right from the beginning. He laughed and played it off because he knew there wasn't anything else he could do. He couldn't admit he knew what she was suspicious of and assure her it was without merit without giving away that Misery told him. He'd been looking for an opening all morning to spin a group conversation towards the Shadow and address the guard-captain's concerns without revealing that he already knew what she thought, except there hadn't been much group discussion to speak of.

Daisy had arrived second and was clearly not enthused to be going. She confided in him that she was worried about leaving Feynriel alone with the templars actively searching for him. Not that she expected to be of any help if a templar did discover him, because to intervene would involve revealing herself as a mage as well, but she felt better about her own ability to keep the boy safely hidden away than she did Arianni's.

It was clear to Merrill that Feynriel was still angry at his mother for contacting Ser Thrask behind his back, the hurt having manifested itself as defiance and disrespect during the brief time Arianni had visited the previous night. After Misery and Bethany stopped by to ask her about coming along to find Viscount Dumar's son, Merrill urged Feynriel to stay inside her house while she was gone and to use the time to work things out with Arianni before they left for Sundermount. Even though he reluctantly agreed, she didn't trust him to sit tight if he and Arianni got into another argument. And she expected them to argue.

Arianni hadn't objected to the decision to take Feynriel to Merrill's clan. In fact, she loved the idea even while wishing that she'd thought of it herself before involving the Chantry. However, she strongly protested Merrill's suggestion that Arianni not accompany Feynriel to the Dalish right away. Merrill believed it would be better for Feynriel to be seen by the Dalish as his own person rather than his mother's half-breed, and also that he would have an easier time focusing on the immediate concerns of learning to keep the demons at bay and controlling his magic without Arianni's presence adding to the pressure.

Arianni, however, desperately wanted to go with her only child, having nothing else to make her want to stay in the Kirkwall alienage. She would have left the alienage years ago if she had known where a Dalish clan was located and thought they would actually accept her and her child of mixed heritage. To have that rising tide of hope crash futilely into the unrelenting wall of reality immediately afterwards was almost more than she could bear. Merrill didn't imagine she'd heard the last of it from her friend, not when the previous night's argument ended because Misery and Bethany came in rather than because Arianni had actually agreed to stay behind and wait about six months before joining her son.

In the end, Merrill agreed to go on the mission for the Viscount's son not because she wanted to, but because she felt obligated to. That was driven both by an ongoing innate need to repay the Hawkes for all they'd done for her and by her sense of fairness. She couldn't very well ask them to help her by taking Feynriel to her clan while refusing their request for help. Even more so because she already knew she wasn't going with them to Sundermount. It was too soon, the emotions still too raw. So helping the Hawkes in small part helped ease her guilt at passing off her burden to them and the others, at not being there to liaison between Feynriel and Keeper Marethari during their introduction. But the reluctance of her presence this morning was still felt through her pensiveness and general lack of engagement with the others.

Varric glanced back at Fenris, noting his typical gloomy demeanor. A sarcastic chuckle escaped at the thought that for all the elf's brooding and apparent dislike for most of the group, he was usually one of the first to arrive and last to leave. Varric briefly wondered if it came from a sense of loyalty beaten into him as a slave or from something else. Regardless, Fenris was reliable and Varric appreciated that.

A light humming coming from the Rivaini drew Varric's attention next and he quietly observed her features. He recognized what he saw, someone that portrayed herself as a shallow, carefree thrill seeker that bounced around to whatever captured her interest at the moment, typically something involving pleasure or profit, but also someone that carried herself with the certainty of purpose. And that's how she appeared here, aloof and disinterested all the while maintaining a keen awareness.

He knew Rivaini was far more calculating than she let on, and realized that in some ways she wasn't that different than Misery. Whereas Misery used a direct, hostile demeanor to deter people from getting close, Isabela disarmed others more subtly. As with Misery, it was almost second nature for her to mentally evaluate people and situations in terms potential advantages and disadvantages, seeking to establish the former for the purpose of minimizing the latter. Even her appearance was calculated, implying a hint of danger with a lot of thrill. She convinced people that her façade was all there was to knowing her, encouraging them to underestimate her.

In contrast to Misery and Rivaini was Sunshine, who was practically an open book with her thoughts and feelings. And currently she was stewing, giving Blondie the cold shoulder by walking near the front of the group next to her sister rather than at the back with him as was her habit. Blondie clearly missed or ignored the non-verbal clues she gave off when he dragged down the stairs at the Hanged Man to where they were all waiting, that she was expecting an apology. Her mood quickly soured when one wasn't forthcoming.

Varric himself was at a loss about it. The previous evening Blondie seemed rather distraught as he confided in him the situation and asked for advice. Varric had reiterated what he once heard his father tell Bartrand – if a woman thinks you wronged her, apologize even if you think it makes no sense. Otherwise she'll make your life miserable until you break, and then make you suffer more for not apologizing in the first place. You weren't going to out stubborn a dwarven woman, and as he told Blondie, the stubborn streak running through the Hawke girls rivaled any dwarven woman he'd ever met.

So he didn't understand why Blondie was playing the detached, unaware angle. He knew the mage's behavior could be erratic at times, and wondered if there was more to that Justice thing than just going on glowy rampages. As the morning progressed, Blondie shifted into standoffish rebel mage mode, which was doing nothing to endear himself to anyone, except possibly Misery, who almost seemed to prefer him to be quiet like this instead of chattering boisterously like he usually did.

Misery… Varric didn't need to look to know her expression was a mask of grim resolution. He used to find that look a bit disconcerting because of the edginess accompanying it that made it seem like she was going to spontaneously lash out at any moment. Then he learned it was simply her process when anticipating danger. She scanned their surroundings for threats while in her mind visualizing potential threats and her corresponding response. He'd been amazed when she told him how she played out battles in her mind ahead of time and realized that preparation fueled her confidence, enabling her to move with deadly efficiency when it came time for the real thing.

While feeling confident that he had his finger on the pulse of the group, the prolonged silence and dour moods were making him irritable. He needed to liven things up. To that end, he allowed his pace to slow until Blondie caught up with him.

"I've been thinking, Blondie. You've got this whole rebel mage thing going, but the bit with the feathered pauldrons isn't working for you."

Anders raised an eyebrow curiously. "What do you mean?"

"You need an edge. Feathers and kittens aren't going to strike fear in the hearts of enemies."

The mage smirked in response. "And I suppose you have something in mind?"

Varric grinned. "What can I say? I'm a problem solver. You need a catchphrase that lets people know you're a force to be reckoned with."

Anders rubbed his chin while thinking. "Hmmm… not a bad idea actually. Any suggestions?"

"Hey, Aveline!" Varric called out. "You're a warrior. What's an intimidating thing to say that tells people you aren't to be messed with?"

The guard-captain turned to face the two men. "What's that?"

"Blondie here… feathers and kittens are too fluffy. He needs an edge."

Aveline rolled her eyes. "You mean something other than the Justice thing?"

"Well, it probably needs to be something he can use without losing himself or whatever."

Anders eyes lit up in excitement. "I got it! How about, 'I'm your worst nightmare!'" he exclaimed.

Varric shook his head. "Nah, too cliché. Kinda like 'Make my day!'"

Misery turned her head curiously. "What are you guys carrying on about back there?"

"Blondie's new catchphrase to intimidate enemies with. You got any ideas?"

Misery tilted her head slightly, thinking for a moment. "Watch this," she muttered under her breath to Bethany before stalking towards the men. The other companions' eyes followed her as well, either out of curiosity or boredom.

The raven haired rogue stopped in front of Anders and flashed a hard glare. "Words are cheap," she declared snidely, practically spitting the words out in disdain. "Let people see it in your eyes that they're already dead."

As Varric's and Anders' mouths dropped open in shock in unison, Misery quickly spun on her heels and moved to return to her place in the procession. With her back to the two men, a grin formed and she winked at the others who were watching, drawing laughter.

Varric, not having seen her give away that she was putting them on, chuckled uneasily. "Ummm, Daisy? How do you say 'The Woman Who Scares the Piss out of People' in Dalish? If it's as colorful sounding as Flemeth's 'The Woman of Many Years', I think we've got Hawke's new nickname."

Merrill shrugged. "Well, Asha'darharel would be 'Woman to be Dreaded'."

The dwarf grinned. "That's a mouthful, but it works for me. How about you, Miz?"

Misery turned back around to face him, ignoring the curious and somewhat uneasy stares regarding the little nickname they hadn't heard before. Anders consciously took a step away from Varric as Misery's attention came back in their direction.

"I'd say call me that at your own risk, but I have to admit it does have a certain mysterious charm to it."

Bethany rolled her eyes. "Then allow me to say it. _No_."

"Hey, Rain Cloud," Varric retorted, "Can you go home and send Sunshine back in your place?"

Bethany stuck out her tongue and turned away, but before her face disappeared from view he caught a glimpse of the grin she was trying to suppress. And a glance around at the others revealed a much lighter mood than there had been a few minutes earlier.

Varric smiled in self-satisfaction. _I love it when a plan comes together._

-==0==-

"Hey," Isabela said, getting everyone's attention. "Do you hear that?"

After several long moments of silence while listening, heads began to nod. The sounds were faint at this distance, but were recognizable indications of conflict.

"We are not alone out here," Fenris noted.

"It's fighting by the sound of it," Aveline added.

"Do you think it is those mercenaries trying to get Saemus back?" Merrill asked.

As they got closer to the source, it became more apparent from the frantic shouts that one group was badly outmatched and barely holding on. From the proximity of the noise, it appeared the fighting was taking place a few hundred feet away around a bend in the path they currently couldn't see beyond. Misery held up her hand for everyone to stop.

"I don't want us charging blind into this. It may not even be something we need to get involved with, so the last thing I want is to create confusion and end up with both sides turning on us." She gestured to her fellow rogues. "Varric, Isabela, and I will approach quietly and scout it out. The rest of you stay here, and stay alert. Be prepared for anything. Call out to us if you see anyone at all approaching you."

With a curt nod, Misery drew her bow and began stalking towards the fighting. Varric and Isabela drew their weapons and fell in alongside her.

Moving nearly silently, the trio of rogues slowly rounded the bend and the battle came into view. A ragtag group was fighting frantically for their lives, while a dwarf scurried around like a chicken with its head cut off all the while screaming at his incompetent men to do something.

Misery felt like the blood in her veins froze as she stared in panicked disbelief at what the men were fighting.

Giant. Spiders.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Thanks to Josie Lange for looking over the lengthy VarricMisery conversation and for the idea to put in a scene with Anders musing about things. And thanks again to everyone who is following this story!_


	18. The Unbidden Rescue

"Spiders? Why'd it have to be spiders?"

Varric turned his head towards the source of the whining. Her shoulders were slumped dejectedly and she looked like she'd rather be anywhere else but here right now.

"You too, Rivaini?"

"The only good spider is a dead one," Isabela noted with disdain. "How about we not get involved here and just quietly go the other way?"

Varric was almost afraid to peek at Misery's reaction, yet the overriding concern drew his attention anyway. She was petrified, wide-eyed and borderline hyperventilating. He suspected that underneath her glove, her knuckles were white from the death grip she had on her bow. He sighed.

"Rivaini, go get the others. With all of us it won't take long to deal with the spiders." He gestured to the dwarf still running around avoiding the action. "And I want to find out what Tintop is doing out here."

As soon as Isabela took off, he turned to face the other woman. "Misery, you can do this. We've all got your back."

When she didn't acknowledge that she'd even heard him, he added, "Just stick to your bow and you don't have to go anywhere near a spider."

"No…" she whispered. "I-I can't…"

"You can do it. Come on, stay with me. I'll get you through this." He hoisted Bianca into position and began to creep forward towards the battle.

Misery didn't budge from her spot. In some ways that was an accomplishment in and of itself, as her brain was still screaming at her to flee. Varric glanced back and saw she wasn't following.

"Come on," he repeated.

"No…"

_Plan B_, he thought grimly. He spun around and approached Misery aggressively, shoving her back. The action startled her enough to make her finally tear her eyes away from the spiders and direct them at the dwarf who was glaring angrily at her.

"Andraste's ass!" he growled. "They're just spiders! Misery Stubborn Hawke rips through much bigger threats than this without breaking a sweat. So stop being a scared little girl and start fighting!"

Misery opened her mouth to speak, but when no words came out Varric shoved her again. Her legs, feeling heavy and weak, barely held her as she stumbled.

"Stop it," she said weakly.

"What are you going to do about it?" he demanded. "Piss yourself?"

Her eyes narrowed only slightly, but before either of them could say anything else Revas bounded into view, with the rest of the group trailing behind. Varric sighed, briefly wishing he'd had even another minute alone with Misery because he thought he was close to getting her distracted enough from her fear to function. Unwilling to continue pushing her like this with the others present, he turned back towards the battle and began firing on one of the spiders.

"Hold up!" Aveline commanded to Fenris and Isabela before they could charge into the fray. The guard-captain motioned to the mages. "Hit them with spells first, then we'll sweep in and clean up."

Anders stepped forward, a stern mask of determination forming on his face as his eyes danced over the battlefield, evaluating the situation. With the utterance of an incantation, a bolt of lightning shot forth from the end of his staff. In less than the blink of an eye it slammed into the side of a spider and quickly arced to another and then another, leaving a trio of smoking carapaces in its wake.

Bethany followed with a targeted fireball that detonated to the side of the same spiders, setting them aflame to ensure they were dead while not having the blast radius hit the mercenaries that were fighting the creatures.

Merrill spun her staff, and with a wave, poisonous tentacles magically arose from the ground around two more spiders. Fenris and Aveline raced in to hack away, taking advantage of the elven mage's magical trap to run the spiders through while they were immobilized and weakened.

Isabela hung back near Misery. She wasn't nearly as bad off around spiders as her fellow female rogue, but she hated spiders enough to avoid them unless she had no choice. And since it appeared they'd get through this skirmish with little trouble, she was content to sit this one out unless circumstances changed and her blades were actually needed.

A short time later, the last of the spiders fell to the onslaught of the newcomers, much to the relief of the mercenaries that had been struggling to hold their own against the creatures. The dwarf leading them remained nonplussed, even going so far as to prod with his boot in annoyance at the body of one of the mercs who didn't survive the skirmish.

"Sodding second rate help!" he exclaimed. "That's what I get for trying to hire blades at a bargain."

Varric scoffed, thinking to himself that he wouldn't expect anything else from a Tintop. "And what exactly brings Javaris Tintop and his armed guard so far from the city?"

Javaris' eyes focused on the other dwarf. "Tethras…" he grumbled as recognition took hold. Gesturing to Varric's companions, he added, "I could ask the same of you."

Varric shrugged. "I'm just along for the fun. She's the one calling the shots," he said, nodding towards Misery.

Javaris looked skeptically at the raven haired girl, who seemed rather squeamish with the dead bugs around them. Still, the group had made short work of the spiders that were threatening to overwhelm the idiots he'd hired. He stroked his beard in thought.

"You might be just what I'm looking for then, a skilled enthusiast. How would you like to do some paid hunting?"

"_Hunting _is hardly your area of expertise," Varric replied when Misery didn't assert herself. "So what's this about?"

"The Qunari have this powder that explodes. And it's just dust! No lyrium, no demons. Anyone can use it. I want to buy the formula for it from them."

"I have heard of this," Fenris offered. "It is why their ships are so feared. I doubt their willingness to part with it, however."

Javaris waved his hand in annoyance. "Their Arishok said I wasn't worthy, that only their outcasts, the Tal-Vashoth, are that mercenary. I told him I'd go talk to them, but that didn't go over well. Anyway, that got me to thinking. Maybe he'll bargain with me if I get rid of these Tal-Vashoth of his. So what do you say? I pay you to go to their camp a little further up the coast and deal with them, you meet me back at the Qunari compound in the city, and we all get richly rewarded. Richly!"

Bethany raised an eyebrow curiously. "It seems risky to simply hope the Arishok will reward you for taking care of the Tal-Vashoth."

"I agree," Fenris said. "The Qunari are not known for accepting the aid of outsiders to deal with their problems."

"Hey, nothing ventured, nothing gained!" Javaris countered.

Varric chuckled, shaking his head. As far as he was concerned it was just like a Tintop to go off half-cocked. Still, he was indifferent to whether or not they accepted the deal. "Hawke?" he asked.

Misery sighed. She didn't want to deal with this right now. Bethany quickly picked up on that and asked, "How much are you paying?"

"Three sovereigns once I have the formula in hand."

"And if the Arishok refuses to reward you?" Aveline asked.

Javaris scowled. "Sodding horn head better not stiff me."

"Sorry, Tintop," Varric began, "unlike _you_, we're not running off into danger on the hope of getting paid. So you either agree to pay us regardless or good luck with the Tal-Vashoth to you and your boys here that couldn't handle some spiders."

"Alright, alright… you'll get paid for the job either way."

"Hawke?" Varric asked again.

"Fine…" she finally said.

Varric nodded. "Get out of here, Javaris. We'll see you back at the Qunari compound tomorrow at midday."

"Great! Now hurry up and get it done!" With that, Javaris motioned to his men and left, gloating to himself that he hadn't actually committed to how much he would pay if the Arishok didn't come through with the formula for the explosive powder.

After Javaris and his men left, Varric shook his head and sighed. "He's a slippery bastard. We might need to lean on him to get him to pay up."

Misery mumbled something unintelligible.

"Come again?" Varric asked.

"Silk glands…" she repeated, this time in a whisper that was articulate enough to be understood.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh!" Merrill exclaimed. "That vendor in the Gallows! Silk glands from giant spiders were one of the items he was trying to acquire."

Isabela's nose wrinkled in disgust. "Tell me you're not going to cut body parts out of these things."

"Me?" Varric asked incredulously. "Nuh uh. Hey, Blondie, why don't you do it? You're used to… operating on things."

"Operating? I work with magic, not a blade." He didn't bother adding that he did have some knowledge of harvesting parts of different types of creatures used in formulating various potions and salves. However, a mischievous grin began to form on his face.

"Tell you what," he continued, motioning with his thumb towards Misery. "If she does one, I'll do the rest."

"Anders!" Bethany exclaimed angrily. "You know how she feels about spiders!"

Misery fought to hold back the fear provoked by the thought of touching even a dead spider. She knew intellectually that her fear didn't make sense. It wasn't like the dead spiders could hurt her, and she was no stranger to blood and gore in general. Still, the cold sweat raising goose bumps on her skin and her temples throbbing in time to the pounding of her heart were visceral reminders that whether or not it made sense, her fear was real.

"You didn't need to go there, Blondie," Varric said in a slightly admonishing tone before sighing deeply. "Fine… I'll do it. Anyone else is certainly welcome to help me out."

Before he could get started, however, Misery coughed and weakly said, "No… wait."

"What's that?" Varric asked.

The raven haired rogue willed her feet to move forward and her left hand to unsheathe the knife from her belt, which she promptly dropped. Bending down to pick it up, she replied, "I-I… I'll do it."

Her voice was barely a whisper and lacked conviction, as if she was praying someone would talk her out of it. But at the same time she felt this was something she needed to do. She thought Varric was seriously upset with her, not realizing he was only trying to get a rise out of her so she'd focus on something other than her fear. But that combined with Anders taunting her for the second time triggered the self-loathing that for her almost always accompanied the feeling of helplessness. And as much as she wanted to run, she felt the need to deal with this fear the way she did most things – by attacking it head on.

Trembling, she knelt down next to a fallen spider and gingerly placed her hand on it before pausing in realization. She glanced back towards the others. "I d-don't know what to do," she quietly admitted.

Anders frowned, and not just from the heartbroken expression worn by Bethany as she watched her sister struggle. He'd taken the cheap shot at Misery not at all expecting her to follow through on it. But now that she was, and seeing that he was the only one finding any amusement in the situation, it hit him how much of an ass he was being. He walked over and knelt beside her, then took the knife from her shaking hand.

"Go on… I'll take it from here."

As much as she wanted to take him up on that, her stubbornness was overriding everything else. "Just… just show me what to do…"

He turned his head in surprise. "Are you sure? You've proven your point. You don't have to do this."

"No, I'm not sure at all." She tried to smirk but her lips wouldn't cooperate. "Just help me through this… please."

Anders nodded, his respect for the taciturn rogue rising. "Alright then… let's get started."

-==0==-

After the group was back on the road, Bethany sidled up to her sister, who was at the head of the pack with Revas alongside her. Giving the rogue space, none of the other companions were within twenty feet of her.

"You alright?" Bethany asked quietly.

"I am always alright." It was an automatic response without any regard given to truth.

"Sister… I'm serious." Shaking her head, she continued, "I still can't believe Anders did that to you. Or that you called his bluff."

Misery stifled the shudder that arose as the images of harvesting a spider silk gland replayed in her mind's eye. "I-I had to."

"Why? Because you're too proud to back down from a challenge?"

The older sister ignored the jibe, not being in the mood to verbally spar. "I have a feeling that won't be the last time we come across those dreadful things, and I can't take being taunted or griped at every time it happens. Or… being a liability."

Forcing a slight smile, she continued, "I don't feel any better about facing a living one, but maybe being able to at least touch a dead one without completely falling apart is progress."

"No one is going to gripe at you. I mean, it's not your fault."

"Varric did."

"Wh-what? When?" Bethany briefly glanced back in the dwarf's direction before returning her attention to her sister.

"While we were waiting for Isabela to come back with the rest of you. He got mad when I couldn't fight. Told me to stop being a scared little girl and shoved me a few times."

The younger girl was getting concerned. "That doesn't seem like him at all. And it's not like you to let anyone treat you like that. Not to mention, you didn't kill him earlier for calling you 'Miz' like I expected you to. So what's going on here? Is it about not losing the expedition?"

"The only reason he got away with it was because I couldn't think straight with those damned spiders running around. Don't think he won't hear about it later though. And you should know I wouldn't let him hold the expedition over my head. We're almost to the point of not even needing it."

"What do you mean?"

"We're up to 37 sovereigns already and the Tal-Vashoth job will make 40, not counting whatever loot we can sell. And we're not exactly struggling to find work these days. Also, I negotiated with the seneschal to get Mother's audience with the viscount for getting his kid back. So, if we're successful, it's possible he will be thankful enough to return the estate to her. Even if he makes her buy it back, I doubt it went for a very high price since Uncle unloaded it in desperation to cover gambling debts."

Bethany nodded slowly in understanding before realization set in. "Wait, 37 sovereigns? How did we get that much? I haven't kept a close count, but shouldn't we only be around 25, maybe a little more than that?"

"I've… done a little extra work on my own here and there. Remind me in a year or two and I'll tell you about it."

"In a year or two? Why so long?"

Misery smirked slightly. "Give it some time to blow over," she answered cryptically.

Bethany eyed her suspiciously but let the subject drop. If her sister didn't want to talk about it, no amount of prying was going to make a difference. Besides, thinking of the possibility of getting the Amell estate back soon was enough to distract her. As was the desire to throttle both Varric and Anders for how they treated her sister.

The latter was another source of consternation. She didn't know what to do about Anders. Things had been going so well between them, then he'd gone cold and aloof when she didn't fully support him with the slaver mage.

As much as she loved her sister, there were some things they just couldn't share. Miri could never relate to the things she went through as a mage. Anders not only understood, he also provided a completely different type of emotional intimacy than she'd ever experienced before meeting him. She found it addicting. But at the same time, she couldn't ignore that he wasn't particularly tolerant of viewpoints that differed from his own. He had his way of looking at things and had little regard for those that didn't agree with him. And while she really wanted to be with him, she couldn't simply discard her own beliefs in order to make it work.

She knew they needed to talk, both about him lying to her and the bigger underlying issues. She resolved to force the issue if he didn't come around by the time they were back to the city.

-==0==-

It was the middle of the afternoon when signs of smoke wafted over a hill a short distance away, accompanied by shouts indicating the presence of others. Misery raised her hand to silently halt the group and frowned as she evaluated the situation. The winding path they'd followed forked off to the left and right in addition to continuing relatively straight. She didn't know which of the paths would lead them to where they needed to go. For all she knew, more than one of them would get them there.

"What do you think, Hawke?" Varric asked. "Split up and some of us each take a path?"

Misery glanced at the dwarf before looking away. She'd finally figured out that he usually called her by her first name when he was speaking to her in a more personal tone, and by her last when he was keeping things professional – often out of frustration with her.

"Bad idea," Isabela quickly responded before Misery spoke up.

"Agreed," Misery said. "We don't know where these paths lead. Whoever is out here already has that advantage on us, and separating into smaller groups only puts us at even more of a disadvantage."

"The paths could be trapped as well," Bethany offered. "Isabela and I aren't as good as you and my sister at detecting and disabling them."

"So, which path then?" Varric asked.

Anders shrugged. "We could play eeny, meeny, miny, moe."

"To the right," Aveline said, pointing in that direction. Seeing the stares that her confident, definitive statement provoked, she explained, "I was a soldier, I _do _know a little something about military strategy. The hills are high along that path and will ensure we can't get flanked from both sides if we're ambushed."

Misery nodded, motioning for everyone to follow as she started down that path. "Varric, up front with me looking out for traps."

-==0==-

Progress was impeded by the need to disable traps, but it wasn't long before the group approached a clearing in time to see a Qunari fall over dead. Even from the side Misery recognized the woman standing over the body, Ginnis of the Winters. Not having been noticed yet, the rogue held up the group while waiting to see how this played out.

"And the world's rid of one more Qunari," Ginnis said snidely. "Easier than I expected."

A human male appearing to be in his late teens fell to his knees in front of the body. Misery assumed from the pinstriped teal outfit featuring a gold half vest with over-padded shoulders that this was Saemus, since as far as she was concerned only a noble would wear a ridiculous getup like that.

"Call the men back! We've got an appointment with the viscount!" Ginnis shouted, confirming the identity.

"Ashaad…" Saemus lamented. "You killed him. You… you… vashedan bitch!" He stood up and pointed an accusing finger at the mercenary leader, clearly not realizing that Ginnis had no qualms about standing up to him.

Ginnis folded her arms across her chest and shook her head. In a very patronizing tone, she replied, "That one of their words? See, that's why you need to be dragged home. You're playing too nice with those things. I'll bet you've gone even further than that, haven't you, brat?" she added suggestively.

"I will _not_ go back with you! I will not see you _murderers_ rewarded!" Saemus declared defiantly.

"Spoiled shit!" Ginnis exclaimed, her expression turning dark. "I'll cut out your tongue and charge extra for bringing you back quiet!" She took a menacing step towards the boy, who cowered, losing his footing as he backpedaled and falling on his rear in the process.

"Time for an intervention," Misery muttered to Varric, motioning to the others to proceed into the clearing.

Ginnis glanced to her left at the approaching group. She started to remark about them being too late, but as she opened her mouth recognition took hold. Her eyes narrowed even further in anger at the sight of the woman that knocked her over the previous day. She snatched the pair of daggers off her back.

"Threatening the person you're supposed to be saving?" Misery asked sarcastically. "I don't think the viscount is going to appreciate that."

"Serah!" Saemus exclaimed at Misery. "Save me from these murderers and I will return to my father with you."

A feral grin crept across Ginnis' face as she stalked towards Misery. "Good timing… I could do with some entertainment while we wait for the others. You're going to pay for crossing me, bitch!"

"She's mine!" Misery barked, staking her claim to Ginnis. With her bow still in hand, she blocked the incoming chop from the merc leader, who had lunged aggressively at her.

The others turned their attentions to the handful of mercs accompanying Ginnis. The impression was there would be more Winters arriving soon, so getting rid of these quickly was a high priority. Aveline and Fenris charged to meet a trio of swordsmen, while Varric scooted to the side and targeted a woman with a crossbow that had similar ideas and was already lining up to fire on him.

Unlike Anders and Merrill, who instinctively turned to their magic and began casting, Bethany didn't want to reveal herself as a mage in front of the viscount's son unless she absolutely had to. She ran over and grabbed Saemus by the arm and pulled him away from the fighting.

"Revas!" Bethany shouted. "To me!" The mabari raced to the younger Hawke, who then commanded him to help her protect Saemus. She didn't trust that amidst the chaos someone wouldn't try to snatch him by force.

The mercenary engaged with Fenris ducked a looping swing of the elf's greatsword and countered with a slash that split the seam in his armor under his right armpit. Fenris growled in pain, stepping back and barely getting his sword in position to parry the follow up attack. He attempted a riposte of his own, but the merc kicked at Fenris' plant leg just as he was pivoting into his vicious swing.

Knocked off balance, his top hand came off the hilt and the blade swept in a much wider arc than he intended. It clipped the redheaded guard-captain fighting next to him, not doing serious damage but distracting her enough to drop her defenses.

"Watch where you're swinging that th-" Aveline began angrily before having her words cut off by searing pain. Her foe's thrust got past her shield and penetrated the studded leathers she was wearing before plunging into her stomach. She managed enough concentration to get her shield up to block the next blow, but weakened from the injury the force behind the strike knocked her down.

Isabela stealthily slipped in behind Aveline's foe, planting a dagger in his back before he could finish off the female warrior. The man was already falling when he burst into flames from a spell flung by Merrill.

Catching a glimpse of an archer turning to fire on her, the Rivaini timed her move and did a dive roll right as the arrow was being turned loose. Popping to her feet, she flipped the dagger in her right hand over, holding it by the blade. In one fluid motion she drew her arm back and cut loose, sending the dagger tumbling end over end until it found purchase in the back of a rogue trying to flank Misery, who was still engaged with Ginnis. From there she sped towards the archer who was focused on her, taking an erratic, zigzag path to make her more difficult to target.

Despite losing ground initially, the Winters was a company of battle hardened veterans that fought with skill and determination. They didn't panic while waiting for reinforcements to arrive, expecting to soon have any temporary disadvantage in numbers shifted back in their favor. It was just a matter of continuing to take it to these upstarts in the meantime. Their confidence was bolstered as those that had been scouting the area began trickling in and joining the battle.

Varric, having taken out the crossbowman he'd been exchanging bolts with, took cover with an eye on the path leading into the clearing they were in, providing suppressing fire in order to keep even more mercs from joining the battle. He was joined by Anders, who drew deeply upon his mana and with a flourish targeted a lightning storm at the trailhead. The tempest crackled with raw energy, ensnaring a group of mercs who were gathering in preparation of rushing the lone dwarven archer holding them back.

A pair of Winters rogues jumped down from the rocks above, landing a few feet away from Saemus. Bethany spun quickly, and with the swing of her staff she swept the legs out from under the one closest to her. Revas was on top of the man before he could recover, going straight for the throat. The mabari took the resulting spray of blood in stride as he finished him off.

The other rogue quickly grabbed Saemus and pressed her dagger to his throat. "Drop your weapon or he dies!" she sneered at Bethany. "If the Winters can't have him, _no one _will!"

Bethany bit her bottom lip as she fretted about what to do.

"Drop it!" the rogue barked again.

Bethany nodded tersely, holding up her hands and making a show of laying down her staff. While bending down she muttered quietly under her breath. The rogue holding Saemus suddenly seized up and dropped her dagger as the crushing despair of horror the mage inflicted on her mind took hold. Bethany reached out and snatched Saemus by the elbow, pulling him away from the merc before taking hold of the fallen dagger and burying it in the rogue's neck.

Two other female rogues continued their own deadly dance. Ginnis had forced Misery to forego the bow and knife melee combo by getting past her defenses multiple times early on, the last of which sliced into her thigh and compromised her mobility to a degree.

Countering with her _Song of Sorrows _and _Arm of Adruil_ daggers, Misery was able to exact a measure of retribution by sinking a blade into the merc leader's side and catching her by surprise with a punch that left blood dribbling from her mouth down her chin and continuing down her neck, the result of her bottom lip splitting open against her teeth and the punch causing her to bite her tongue.

After a lengthy, somewhat cautious feeling out period in which each rogue mostly failed in their attempts to find and exploit weaknesses in their opponent's defenses, the intensity had ramped up to a fever pitch, with the quartet of blades repeatedly clashing in a rapid fire staccato to create a macabre symphony of sound and spark.

The evenly matched combatants grew increasingly frustrated at not being able to gain an edge, at almost every chop, thrust, and slash meeting either a well placed block or nothing but thin air. The few attacks that did slip through and managed to draw blood were met with brief grunts or groans, but otherwise neither woman would give the other the satisfaction of seeing them hurt.

Tiring from the extended exertion, Ginnis caught the toe of her boot on a slightly raised part of the ground while trying to shuffle to the side. She caught herself, but couldn't recover her defensive posture fast enough and only partially deflected the incoming slash. The tip of Misery's dagger raked across her right cheek, leaving behind an angry scarlet line in its wake.

Going for the kill, Misery impatiently lunged forward, spinning the dagger in her left hand into an icepick grip and trying to quickly plant it in Ginnis' heart. It was a miscalculation against the experienced merc leader, who sidestepped the attack and rammed her own dagger into the overextended Misery's already wounded left thigh. The thrust didn't have enough power behind it to gain much penetration, but it painfully tore flesh and muscle nevertheless.

"Will you _die _already?" Ginnis screeched scornfully.

Misery hissed at the acute pain that was centered on the injury site and radiated outwards from there to the rest of her leg. She slammed her gauntlet into the offending blade's hilt, forcing it out of her leg in the process. Her wounded thigh muscle spasmed, compelling her to shift most of her weight to her good leg to keep from falling.

"You first," Misery growled out in response to the mercenary's rhetorical question.

Ginnis tried to press her advantage against the raven haired rogue's lack of balance. She feigned a chop at Misery's compromised leg, and as Misery moved to defend Ginnis spun back the other way and slashed hard at the right side of her neck. Misery ducked it, though the whistling blade moved enough air right above her hairline for her to realize it was a close call.

Misery let the dagger in her right hand drop while rising up. She reached out and grabbed the collar of Ginnis' leather chest piece and used it as leverage to yank herself forward and up while simultaneously pulling the other rogue towards her. Misery violently drove her forehead into the bridge of Ginnis' nose, snapping the cartilage and breaking the skin wide open.

The side effect of the unexpected attack was Ginnis' eyes involuntarily closing and watering heavily, effectively blinding her. She lashed out wildly with both daggers in an attempt to keep her foe at bay, but it was an act of futility. Misery took the dagger in her hand and whipped it at the backpedaling rogue. She cursed when it ricocheted off Ginnis' chest, and grabbed her other dagger from the ground nearby. Even with her weakened leg, Misery quickly closed the gap before Ginnis could clear her vision.

With Ginnis swinging blindly at head and chest level, Misery reversed the grip on her dagger, ducked low, and drove the point of the blade into the side of her knee, splitting the armor and shredding the load bearing ligaments and tendons. Ginnis' leg folded sideways unnaturally and she lost her weapons while falling with a loud scream.

Operating on little more than adrenaline, Misery pounced, landing on Ginnis' stomach with the knee of her good leg. She raised her arm and brought the dagger to bear with all of her remaining strength, the final plunge a vicious stab in the mouth that tore through everything in its way, gruesomely staking the Winters leader's head to the ground in death.

Despite her fatigue, Misery's self-preservation instincts kicked in, and with Ginnis out of the way her eyes immediately began scanning the field of battle for additional threats. To her surprise, there were none. Her companions had handled the rest of the Winters and were in the process of regrouping, in some cases healing and being healed.

She wearily stood and took a few steps towards retrieving her latest failed dagger throwing attempt. With the adrenaline rush of battle rapidly fading, her awareness was drawn to her injuries and the pain began to intensify. Her thigh was the biggest concern, though she'd suffered a few other smaller wounds in the duel as well. She half sat half fell awkwardly on her rear, groaning and grasping her thigh. It took several moments to get enough mental control back to begin digging through her pack for both an elfroot potion and a couple of injury kits.

-==0==-

Isabela approached Misery first, carrying her previously dropped bow. "Done already?" she asked Misery, mock yawning and then grinning.

"Pfft… that bitch was as tough as anyone I've ever gone up against. I'm just glad everyone stayed out of my way and didn't interfere."

The Rivaini nodded slowly, not commenting out loud but finding herself impressed with her fellow rogue's attitude towards the duel, that desire to rise to the challenge. She knew that the unenlightened would say it was irrational to willingly risk death by insisting on fighting one-on-one when accepting readily available aid would nearly eliminate any doubt as to the outcome. But she also knew firsthand the thrill of the duel. It was an almost irresistible thrill to Isabela, a pastime in which she'd defeated dozens over the years.

The thought of one day dueling the likes of Misery briefly flashed through her mind, but she dismissed it just as quickly. For one, Hawke wasn't nearly skilled enough to pose her a serious challenge. Even against Ginnis she'd gotten by more on fierce determination and natural talent than trained hand-to-hand technique.

Still, Isabela couldn't resist teasing Misery a bit. "Well, it's a good thing you weren't going up against me. I wouldn't have let you off the hook the way she did. Nor would I have let her off the hook the way you did. You both missed multiple opportunities to end it."

"Maybe, maybe not," Misery offered offhandedly while continuing to treat her thigh with the contents of an injury kit. She was telling the truth about being glad the others stayed out of her fight with Ginnis, but now she was beginning to get perturbed that neither Bethany nor Anders had come to check on her. She could see them maybe a hundred feet away with their backs to her. As a result, she was becoming less interested in this conversation and more interested in finding one of her mage companions for additional help.

Isabela shook her head. "I told you back when we first met, dueling is kind of my thing. And I'll tell you this now… you have a lot of potential, but you lack serious training. We haven't had a chance to work on your blade throwing yet, but if you want I can also show you some dueling techniques. Up to you."

"What do you get out of it?" Misery asked, skepticism creeping into her tone.

"I get better prepared help when I finally track down the relic. Whoever has it, I expect it will be heavily guarded and make most of our jobs look like child's play in comparison. And if that doesn't sound like a fair trade to you, I certainly won't object to you teaching me some things about traps. Your knowledge of them is much more advanced than mine."

Misery nodded. "Fair enough," she replied, holding out her hand for the Rivaini. After Isabela helped hoist her to her feet, Misery finished retrieving her gear and the pair went back to the others.

-==0==-

It soon became more apparent to Misery why the others weren't in a hurry to check to see if she needed additional help. Merrill was assisting Anders, providing an extra set of hands while they worked on Aveline and Fenris, both of whom had been wounded badly.

With Saemus not realizing she had cast a spell earlier and the other two mages having the situation with the warriors under control, Bethany opted to maintain her secret and not cast healing spells. She stood alongside Varric and Revas watching over Saemus, who was kneeled down over the dead Qunari.

"Ashaad never lied, never coddled," Saemus said sadly. He glanced up at Bethany, who gave a sympathetic smile in return. "You were either worth his time, or you were not." He stood up and sighed, continuing, "They are not the barbaric brutes others make them out to be."

Bethany bit her bottom lip. Her only prior experience with the Qunari had been in Ferelden, where one slaughtered her best friend's entire family in the middle of their fields. She'd been very disappointed when she found out only days before the darkspawn arrived that the revered mother had authorized releasing the Qunari from its cage in the middle of town. However, she wasn't going to bring that up right now.

Instead she asked, "Had you known Ashaad long?"

Saemus nodded slowly. "I met him shortly after their ship foundered. I had run… again… to escape the Keep and my father."

_Sounds like he and Anders have a lot in common_, Misery thought.

"Ashaad was to map the coast to 'find an answer for the Arishok'," Saemus continued. "I am the viscount's son, bound by everything that entails. Ashaad did not care. It was… liberating. There was so much about him that I did not understand, but it was so very worth trying."

"Is there something we need to do for your friend?" Varric asked. "Do the Qunari bury their dead?"

"No… the body is no longer him, and therefore is worthy of no special treatment. That is apparently their way." Saemus shook his head as if still in disbelief. "I assume you will want to clean this camp out of any valuables. Once you are ready I will honor my word and return with you to my father. I will talk to him again, and try to make him see."

Misery nodded. "Revas, don't leave Saemus' side. Get our attention if anyone approaches. Bethany, Varric, and Isabela, help loot this place while the others get patched up."

-==0==-

Varric stopped as soon as they were out of earshot and turned towards the others. "What are we going to do about the job for Tintop? We can't exactly take the kid with us into a hostile situation like that."

Isabela nodded in agreement. "And with his disposition towards the Qunari, he's liable to lose it if we stroll into one of their camps and start killing them unprovoked."

"We need to just get him home safely," Bethany added.

"Hawke?" Varric asked when the rogue didn't speak up.

A devious grin began to form on Misery's face. "What's left for us to do? The Tal-Vashoth are dead." She gestured back towards where the dead Qunari body laid.

"I don't think Ashaad was Tal-Vashoth," Bethany suggested, not understanding what her sister meant.

Varric whistled low as realization set in. "We take evidence of this guy's death back and lie to Tintop and the Arishok, tell them the Tal-Vashoth have been dealt with. Dangerous if we get caught in the lie."

"This is a bad idea," Bethany began. "Too risky."

Isabela chuckled. "Risky indeed, I like it."

Misery waved her hand at her sister. "I will go to the Qunari compound alone to speak with Javaris. He has no way of verifying our claim, and I don't see how the Arishok will know right away whether we dealt with the particular camp Javaris told us about or not. If called on it later we can always claim ignorance and say we didn't know we hadn't gotten them all."

"I'll go with you," Varric said. Seeing the glare he was receiving from the mage for supporting her sister's plan, he added, "Don't worry, Sunshine. She'll pull it off. I have no doubt of that."

"We can discuss it later," Misery replied, preempting any further objection from Bethany. "Let's hurry up and get this place cleaned out. I don't want to linger any longer than necessary and chance that we'll encounter other mercenaries with designs on getting their hands on Saemus."

-==0==-

The journey back to Kirkwall was thankfully uneventful. As they entered the city, Aveline secured a handful of guards for escort duty, providing extra security as a precaution. Once they reached the Viscount's Keep, everyone but Misery and Aveline went their separate ways – home in the case of Fenris, Merrill, Bethany, Revas, and Anders, and to the Hanged Man for Varric and Isabela. Aveline's guards returned to their posts at the city gates.

Seneschal Bran's eyes opened wide at the sight of Saemus stepping on to the balcony housing the viscount's office, flanked by the guard-captain and her smarmy friend. "Saemus!" he exclaimed louder than he intended.

Within seconds the door to the viscount's office flew open and Viscount Dumar stepped out, looking around frantically. "My son!" he cried out, "I thought I had lost you!"

"Father…" Saemus replied in a tone hinting resignation to an unpleasant lecture.

Bran fought the urge to roll his eyes at the boy's behavior. Instead, he redirected the conversation. "Allow me to present one Serah Misery Hawke, Excellency. She fulfilled the bounty."

Noting that Aveline wasn't in uniform but was nonetheless armed and armored and had clearly been in a scrap or two, Bran added, "Apparently with the _unofficial _aid of the Captain."

Dumar reluctantly pulled his attention away from Saemus. The reluctance wasn't born from a lack of appreciation for what the woman did, but rather his genuine desire to speak with his son.

"You have my gratitude," he said, nodding at both women. "I would say I hope you encountered no great difficulties on my son's behalf, however, your appearances suggest otherwise. Was it the Qunari you came into conflict with?"

Before Misery or Aveline could answer, Saemus huffed. "The Qunari are not barbarians! It was that other mercenary group _you_ sent after me."

"The Winters," Aveline explained.

"Yes," Saemus agreed, "they were content to murder anyone in their path, and after killing my friend they threatened to harm me. I fear they would have if Guard-Captain Aveline's group had not shown up when they did."

Aveline shook her head. She wanted to head off any notion that she'd disobeyed the order to keep the Guard out of this.

"With all due respect, this was Hawke's operation. I was simply accompanying my friend. To be clear, I wore this in place of my captain's plate so there would be no insinuation that I was there representing the Guard. Other than my second, who needed to know where I was going, none of my guards know anything about this."

Dumar nodded. "I appreciate your discretion on this matter. However, was there no way to avoid an incident with these Winters?"

"Did you hear nothing I said?" Saemus asked in frustration, folding his arms across his chest. "They killed my friend! Where is your concern for that?"

The viscount sighed. "It was my understanding you were captured by the Qunari while foolishly traipsing about the coast alone as you do."

Saemus rested his face in the palm of his hand, causing Misery to think that this must be rather typical of their relationship. She could relate.

"I was not _captured_," he began, sighing deeply. "I was with Ashaad, my Qunari _friend_. If you would just try to understand that they are not monsters to be feared, others would see that as well."

Dumar's nostrils flared in irritation with the boy. "Better that you were thought abducted than to have their influence suspected in my own family. Regardless of how benign you believe it to be, it is too much. My opponents would use this to undermine my position."

"Right, because as always, it is all about you," Saemus retorted in disgust.

Misery cleared her throat to get the men's attention. "Perhaps you two should save the bickering for a not so public situation."

Dumar bowed his head briefly, schooling his expression back to a mask of neutrality. "It is not an easy thing, raising a child. Even more so when every action either of us takes is so heavily scrutinized, distilled into political capital to be played for or against. For your sake, I hope your relationship with your father is less… complicated."

Misery noticed the undercurrent of wistfulness in the viscount's tone. However, she still had the impression from what little she'd heard and seen that the majority of his problems with Saemus stemmed from valuing his career and position over his family.

"I lost my father to the Blight," she replied. "He was my best friend."

"My sympathies," Dumar offered.

"Yes, well, there is a family issue I was hoping you would help with. My mother, Leandra Hawke, formerly Leandra Amell, has been trying to get an audience with you. I would be grateful if you could see her as soon as possible."

"Aristide's daughter?" Dumar asked. His surprise was obvious.

Misery paused, realizing she actually didn't even know what her grandfather's first name was. Fortunately, Dumar didn't seem to notice and resumed speaking. "As you might know, Aristide and I had a history between us. At one time he was in line to be the next viscount… until magic turned up in the Amell family."

"Mother was heir to the Amell estate," she answered, not caring about the history lesson. She also didn't like what she interpreted to be a subtle allusion to stonewalling her mother over whatever had gone on between Dumar and Amell. "We have her father's will proving that claim. However, the estate was illegally sold out from under her while we were living in Ferelden and is now occupied by slavers… probably Tevinter."

"Slavers in Hightown?" He glanced at the guard-captain, and when she nodded in confirmation he sighed in exasperation. "Very well…" he finally relented, waving his hand. "Bran, in recognition of Serah Hawke's service in safely returning my son, I authorize you to sort out this mess and restore Amell's inheritance rights if the claim can, in fact, be proven."

Turning to the Captain of the Guard, he added, "And I want those slavers gotten rid of… _quietly_." She nodded in understanding.

After the viscount excused himself and went back inside his office, Bran pinched the bridge of his nose in visible annoyance at having to deal with this new situation. "Tell your mother to bring the will and any other documents supporting your story. It will take some time to review and verify their validity, and then to draft an edict if it comes to that."

Misery resisted the urge to comment on the seneschal acting put out to help a citizen recover their rightful property, knowing that antagonizing the man would likely result in him dragging his heels on it even further. And she felt like Dumar's directive was a victory in and of itself.

Her decision to be polite was made even easier when Bran handed her a small pouch containing five sovereigns, her reward for fulfilling the bounty. She thanked him and left.

"Come on, Hawke," Aveline began as they walked away. "We're getting cleaned up and then you're buying me dinner and drinks."

Misery laughed but nodded in agreement. It had been a harrowing day for her, but the last fifteen minutes had washed away almost all of the stress. And for one of the rare times she was actually looking forward to talking to her mother.

-==0==-

Isabela slid into a chair, setting her tankard down on the table occupied by Misery and Aveline.

Aveline sighed. "I just don't know, Hawke."

"Dilemma?" Isabela asked.

Misery shrugged. "Just Aveline being shallow. There's a guard she's interested in, but he only packs a short blade."

"Hawke!" Aveline exclaimed, blushing.

Isabela laughed gleefully. "Never would've guessed you to hold that against a man."

Misery nodded. "I tried to tell her that it isn't the length that matters, but how it's used. I'll take short with precision strokes any day."

Aveline shook her head. "It's so much more satisfying holding some length in your hand. I don't see why you can't understand that."

"Oh, I don't know," Isabela replied. "Long and thin is hardly any better."

Misery raised an eyebrow quizzically. "You mean like a rapier?"

The Rivaini laughed again. "That's one way to look at it I suppose."

"I hear that in Rivain all the palace guards have curved ones. Is that true?" Aveline asked.

"Why are you looking at me like I should know the answer to that?"

"You're from Rivain, I figured you would know," Aveline replied with a shrug.

"Curved?" Misery asked, shaking her head. "Wouldn't that affect penetration?"

"I don't know," Aveline answered. "I saw a picture of one in a book once, but that was a long time ago. I'd be curious to try one out."

"What a pleasant surprise," Isabela said, grinning. "You're more adventurous than I ever gave you credit for." She raised her tankard as if saluting the guard-captain before taking a drink.

Aveline eyed the rogue with slight confusion before shrugging again. "Anyway, maybe I was just spoiled by Wesley. It took both hands to handle his, yet he used it effortlessly."

Isabela spit out her mead at that statement, gasping. "Both hands? No wonder you married a templar!"

"Is that so unusual?" Misery asked. "I didn't get to see Wesley actually use his, but Fenris' is just as long. Far too big for me... I'd hurt myself trying to handle that much length."

Isabela's eyes opened even wider. "You saw Aveline's husband's? _And _Fenris'?"

Misery stared back in confusion. "Yeah…?" she answered, slowly drawing out the word.

"Why are you so surprised?" Aveline asked. "It's not like you weren't there all day. You couldn't have missed Fenris' out there in the open."

Isabela was racking her brain trying to figure out why they were so nonchalant about this. And she definitely would have noticed something like that. Suddenly doubt crept in.

"Wait… what are we talking about here?"

"Blades," Misery and Aveline answered in unison, both still appearing confused.

"What are _you _talking about?" Misery asked.

"Ohhhh…" Isabela replied, breaking into a fit of giggles. She stood up and winked at the two ladies before walking off, still giggling to herself.

Aveline put her face in her hand briefly as realization set in. "Whore…" she grumbled in the direction of the Rivaini's backside.

Misery finally caught on and started laughing. "And apparently for awhile there she thought the two of you had that in common."

"Ugh… let's keep this between us. I don't need Varric getting even more ideas for his ridiculous serials."

Misery nodded, and the women shared a laugh at the thought of what just happened.

* * *

><p><em>AN: I got the idea to modify the classic Indiana Jones line from snakes to spiders from Shakespira's review of the previous chapter, so thank you for that :-) <em>

_Sharem, a talented artist and fellow author, recently surprised me with a wonderful rendition of Misery on deviantart. Check it out if you haven't already seen it: _sharem . deviantart . com/art/Hurtled-into-Chaos-Misery-Hawke-273567223 _(take the spaces out of the first part of the URL)_


	19. Legacies, Strained Bonds, and Assassins

Descending the steps into the tavern, Varric's attention was drawn to the laughter coming from the table to his right. Sitting at the corner table were Misery and Aveline, clearly amused with something. In the span of a few seconds a number of thoughts went through his head. He wondered if not telling him they were there was driven by Aveline, who had been rather cool towards him all day, or if it was Misery's decision. He wondered if Misery would have come see him before she left if he hadn't come down first. He wondered if their good moods meant it was safe to approach.

Still, he hesitated only a moment before changing course from his intended destination, which had been the counter in front of Corff.

Seeing the dwarf's approach, Aveline's mirth faded. "Anyway, I'd better get back to the barracks. Come see me when you get back from Sundermount, let me know how it went." She stood up and before walking away, added, "Be good, Varric."

The dwarf shook his head. "Why do I get the feeling you think I'm up to something I'm not?"

Aveline's eyes narrowed slightly. "That remains to be seen. But I was actually referring to the drunk at the table over there that asked us when we came in if we'd really escaped the Blight on the back of a giant turtle. I can only imagine where he got _that _idea from."

"Yeah, not one of my better stories… in hindsight I should've went with a dragon. Scary, that'd actually be a lot closer to the truth." Almost as an afterthought he added, "If that sort of thing matters to you."

When the guard-captain made her way towards the door, Varric turned his attention back to the rogue at the table. "Got a minute to talk?"

Misery shrugged. "Did you want to talk to Hawke, or to Misery?"

"What do you mean?"

She waved her hand dismissively before gesturing for him to take a seat. If he wasn't aware of his own tell when it came to revealing his mood towards her, she wasn't going to give up that advantage.

"So…" he began, "While on my way back from the Viscount's Keep, it... came to my attention that you misunderstood my intentions earlier with the spiders."

"Came to your attention?"

"Yeah, well, Sunshine gave me an earful about how you told her I treated you. I explained it to her, but since I ran into you here on my way to the bar I figured I should tell you myself. I was never actually upset with you, not even for a second. All I was trying to do was… I thought maybe… maybe if I made you mad it'd distract you from being afraid. I should've pulled you aside afterwards and explained it then, especially after Blondie pulled that shit with the silk glands. I'm sorry."

Misery closed her eyes briefly before nodding in understanding. "Thank you."

Silence settled in when she didn't add anything else, content to let her simple two word response stand in contrast to his long-winded rambling. Varric knew that was her way, and her reaction was enough for him to know that she'd accepted the explanation and apology. Misery wasn't one to go into detail verbalizing her feelings most of the time. However, anger, in all of its degrees, was the one emotion she seldom held back. She'd have made it crystal clear if she was still upset. He wouldn't have to guess.

Unlike Misery, who never seemed to find prolonged silence awkward or uncomfortable, Varric hated it. He'd developed a number of ways to avoid it and was an adept conversationalist in almost any situation. Yet he found that Misery challenged his skills without even realizing she was doing it, something he found both frustrating and amusing. Since she hadn't left him any natural segue out of the previous topic, he forced himself to wait a minute or so and then changed topics.

"How'd it go with Dumar?"

"Profitable. Made five sovereigns off the job plus in all likelihood got Mother her estate back. She needs to take her documentation to the seneschal and have him validate it. Dumar said if it checks it out he'll restore her rights. I didn't ask, but it sounded like we won't even have to pay to buy it back."

Varric nodded. It came to mind that Misery might not want to risk investing in the expedition if she didn't need it to pay for the estate, but he quickly dismissed that notion. He trusted her to carry through with the commitment.

"Five, eh? Not too bad," he replied.

"Not bad at all. After Tinhead pays us tomorrow we'll be sitting at 45 sovereigns. Almost there."

The dwarf chuckled at the not quite right reference to Javaris Tintop. "If we get lucky we'll come back from Sundermount with close to the five we're short in loot." He began to rub his chin in thought. "I should probably take you over to see Bartrand tomorrow, get that headache out of the way."

"You don't want to wait until we actually have the fifty in hand?"

"Nah… it's not like Bartrand is going to be ready to leave right away. It'll take him a few weeks to finalize the details once it's funded, so if we talk to him before leaving for Sundermount, he can at least start preparing. And he can get his bitching at me for going behind his back over with."

Misery stared back curiously. "What do you mean, 'going behind his back'?"

"Well, you see… I haven't actually told him he has a partner yet."

At the sight of Misery's rapidly darkening expression he held up his hands and gestured for her to relax. "Trust me on this, I know my brother. He'll scream bloody murder for about five minutes, then accept I'm right that fifty percent of the spoils is a lot better than one hundred percent of nothing, which is what his expedition amounts to on his own."

Misery exhaled in exasperation, but finally nodded. "I trust you. We'll go see Bartrand after we get done with the Arishok."

"Perfect." He winked at the female rogue and in a quieter voice added, "Now, I'd invite you up for a drink, but it's obvious it's only stubbornness keeping you going at this point. So get out of here and go get some rest."

Misery rolled her eyes, but despite her reaction a small grin formed anyway. "I do still need to tell Mother the news anyway, so I'll let you off for trying to be my father and see you tomorrow."

-==0==-

Once she was outside the Hanged Man, Misery paused to rub her left thigh, which was still sore from the wounds she'd suffered at the hands of Ginnis earlier in the day. While doing that she heard hushed whispers coming from the side and casually turned her head in that direction. A quartet of dwarves weren't being very subtle in their interest in her. She scowled at the men before striding away.

Misery didn't need to glance back to know she was being followed. She gradually picked up her pace, her long strides forcing her shorter legged pursuers into almost a jog in order not to fall too far behind. Not that she felt like she needed help, but she cynically wondered where all of Aveline's extra guards were, since the guard-captain had made a point of telling her she was doubling the nighttime patrols in response to the Shadow.

The rogue ducked down an alley and took off running, ignoring the stiffness in her leg. After cutting down another corridor, she spied a stack of crates against the back of a single story building. She swiftly scaled them and leapt up to grab the edge of the roof. With a slight grunt she pulled herself up and climbed on to the roof, rolling on to her back and lying flat. She relaxed her breathing and listened intently. It wasn't long before she could hear the scuffling of multiple sets of boots passing by.

Misery got to her feet and while crouching low stalked silently towards the edge. She could hear the men mumbling, but couldn't make out exactly what they were saying, which was frustrating because she wanted to know why she was being followed. As she got close enough to see the men she saw one of them pointing in a couple of directions. Then she clearly heard the words 'blood' and 'Hawke' before he and one of the others took off one way while the other two started backtracking.

It was unsettling that they were clearly looking for her specifically and it only took her a moment to formulate her plan. She backed away long enough to give this pair time to pass her again, while at the same time readying her bow. Misery scooted forward and turned loose her first shot. The arrow bored into the base of one of the men's necks, dropping him instantly. Before his shocked partner could locate the source of the shot, Misery sent another that hit him in the chest and knocked him down.

She was lining up a follow up when a bolt slammed into her left thigh. The force alone of the unexpected attack caused her to lose her footing and go tumbling off the roof. She screamed despite herself when her awkward landing tore the bolt out, reopening her earlier wound.

"Over there!" a female voice called out loudly.

Misery gritted her teeth and dragged herself to her feet. She limped a few steps in the opposite direction of the female voice she'd heard, only to see the other two dwarves running towards her. Realizing there was no point in remaining stealthy, she reached into her belt pouch and pulled a combustion grenade made by her friend Tomwise.

She had no idea how they worked, just the instructions he insisted she remember – twist the stem a half turn, mash it down, shake thrice, get it the fuck out of your hand. The rogue replicated those steps and tossed the grenade at the ground in front of the approaching dwarves. It bounced once and then exploded in a flash of light and flame. The discharge caught one of the men, engulfing him.

Misery drew a dagger and lunged at the other man. The dwarf, however, was more agile than she gave him credit for, and he sidestepped her attack. Weakened from her wound and the fall, she stumbled trying to bring her momentum under control and fell. The dwarven assassin jumped on her and pressed his dagger to her throat. Then he began giggling

"Y-you're the Hawke," he said, his tone a mixture of giddiness and delirium.

"What do you want with me?" Misery hissed in reply.

"Stop right there!" the female voice from before shouted from much closer. When the dwarf took his eyes away from Misery to see who was there, she took advantage of the distraction to unsheathe a knife from her belt and in one fluid motion plunge it into his neck.

Misery was quickly surrounded as she pushed the dwarf away and crawled to her feet. Six members of the City Guard had their weapons trained on her.

"Great… _now_ you show up," she remarked sarcastically to the guardswoman that seemed to be leading them.

Sergeant Melindra scowled. "In the name of the viscount I hereby place you under arrest."

"What? For defending myself? _They _were after _me_!"

"And why were they after you?" the guardswoman asked. "Have a bounty on your head?"

Another guard stepped forward. He was carrying a crossbow and Misery could tell by his smug expression that he was the one that hit her. "I saw you up there, _Shadow_," he sneered while gesturing towards the roof of the building. "We finally caught you."

Misery couldn't believe it. She'd managed to avoid detection for a couple of months while actively seeking out thugs to kill, only to get caught while legitimately defending herself. Still, since she had a valid excuse she was going to protest her innocence.

"Look, I came out of the Hanged Man not fifteen minutes ago. I don't know who these men were, but they started following me and then chased me when I took off running. I lost them in the back alleys and climbed up on the roof to hide."

"Oh?" Melindra asked, "You mean to say standing up there picking them off with your bow was simply hiding?"

"I think not," another guardsman answered. "Look at her, Sergeant. Normal people don't carry an armory with them to go out for a drink."

Misery rubbed her face in exasperation. "I haven't been home since returning from the Wounded Coast earlier, where I rescued the _viscount's_ son."

"Ooh, an adventurer," one of the younger guardsmen replied, his sarcastic tone making it clear he didn't believe her.

The one that previously pointed out how well armed she was shrugged. "I was an adventurer once, then I took an arrow in the knee." A couple of the other men chuckled at that, causing him to wave them off with a grin.

Melindra glared hard. "Enough." Training her glare on the female rogue, she continued, "Now you can come along quietly, or we can do this the hard way."

"You are serious?" Misery asked incredulously. When the only response was a threatening step forward, she sighed in resignation. In her current condition she had no chance of physically resisting, and even if she could the consequences of doing so would likely be dire.

"You are making a mistake. Fine… I'll go if you insist… but you'd damned well better take me straight to Aveline so she can sort this out."

The rogue bent down to take her knife from the dead dwarf's neck, but she was promptly shoved away and fell on her rear.

"Back off, asshole! I already told you I won't resist! I'm just retrieving my weapons!"

Melindra waved her hand, indicating she would allow it. Misery took the knife and wiped it off as best she could on the dwarf's sleeve. From there she turned to retrieve her bow, only to see one of the other guardsmen slinging it over his back.

"That bow is mine!" Misery growled.

"Bow? What bow? I don't see any bow," the guard answered snidely. "You must have misplaced yours somewhere else. Too bad."

"Bullshit!" she exclaimed and began stalking towards him. "No way you-"

Her words were cut off when another of the guards struck her hard on the back of the head. As was her consciousness. She was out even before hitting the ground.

The guardswoman leading them scowled. "You idiot! If her story checks out, the captain will-"

"What about the captain?" another man asked. The guards standing around the unconscious rogue looked over to see a fellow guardsman approaching.

Melindra shook her head. "Donnic… we think we got the Shadow. She was killing these dwarves from that rooftop. She claimed to have been defending herself and to have rescued Viscount Dumar's son earlier. I doubt she was telling the truth, but this little twit went and cold cocked her after Guardsman Wright decided to help himself to her bow as a little bonus. Do you know if Saemus returned to the Keep? I haven't heard anything."

Donnic nodded. "I was at the barracks when the captain came in and told us. She did not say much, only that Saemus had been rescued and no further investigation by the Guard was required."

While Melindra glared at the pair of guardsmen that escalated the situation, Donnic maneuvered his way to where he could see the female lying on the ground. He frowned as recognition took hold.

"Hawke," he said.

"You know her?" asked one of the guardsmen.

"She is a friend of the captain's. She was there to pull my arse out of the fire when Jeven sent me with the satchel to my death."

The guardsman that knocked Hawke unconscious cleared his throat. "The waterfront is only a short distance. We can ditch the body there. Weighed down by armor it'll sink to the bottom like an anchor." When the others simply stared at him, he shrugged. "I'm just sayin'."

"It'd save us any trouble with the captain," Wright noted.

"I say we go for the reward and recognition for capturing the Shadow," one of the others suggested. "I could certainly use the coin."

The suggestions only further irritated the sergeant. "Brilliant! Are you idiots guardsmen, or murderers and bounty hunters?" She shook her head. "We're taking her in, and nitwit Wright gets to carry her since his stupidity led to her not being able to walk there on her own."

Donnic nodded, inwardly relieved at the decision. He didn't know if Hawke was guilty or not, but if nothing else he felt he owed it to her to at least see that she got her due process. "There is enough doubt as to what she was doing up on the roof killing these men that the captain will understand subduing her."

He looked at each of the guards before continuing, "But I strongly suggest keeping it strictly professional. You know the captain is trying to restore the reputation of the Guard and has no tolerance of guardsmen engaging in… less than honorable activities. Don't give Serah Hawke opportunity to call our honor into question."

"Agreed," Melindra stated sternly. "We do this by the book. Pick her up, Wright. You other two twits that wanted to dump the body get to stay behind and clean up the mess. When you're done, see what you can find out about the dwarves." When the men groaned in unison she quickly added, "And you'd better take care of the bodies properly or I'll see that you're put on report and get extra duties out of it."

In contrast to Donnic's calm, matter of fact demeanor, she was still very much on edge about the whole situation. She knew that's how he was though, and alternated between admiring that about him and wanting to slap him for it. Right now it was the former. She was grateful for his help in preventing the idea of getting rid of the girl and covering it up from gaining traction among the men.

Satisfied by the reactions that her orders were going to be followed, she motioned for them to head out and started for the Viscount's Keep.

-==0==-

"Maker's breath, just a minute!" Gamlen shouted in response to the incessant knocking. In general he preferred not to answer the door, it was just _easier_ that way since the people who came to see him personally were usually representing people he owed money to, but whoever was outside wasn't taking the lack of response for an answer.

Bethany moved to the doorway of her room. It put her within line of sight of the door to the house, better prepared to react depending on what this was about. Revas, already lying close by, turned his head to see what the commotion was about.

Gamlen pulled open the door in a huff. "What?"

The dwarf outside ignored the crotchety attitude of the older man. His own expression was grim for a completely different reason.

"Is Misery here?"

Bethany pushed off the doorframe at the sound of the voice and moved towards the men. "Varric?"

Recognizing the dwarf as an associate of the girls, Gamlen walked away without answering, content to let Bethany deal with him.

"Is your sister here?" Varric asked again.

Bethany shook her head. "I haven't seen her since yesterday when we left the others at the Keep." It wasn't common for Misery to be out all night without coming home, but it wasn't unheard of either.

Varric rubbed his face. "I was afraid you'd say that. Grab your gear, we need to get to the Viscount's Keep. She's in trouble."

"Trouble? What's going on?"

"Norah mentioned overhearing some guards bragging about having captured the Shadow."

Bethany raised an eyebrow quizzically. "What does that have to do with my sister?"

"Ahhh… shit." He hadn't realized she didn't already know.

The mage's eyes widened, piecing together the conclusion from his reaction. "Wait, her? Sh-she is…?"

"Come on," he replied impatiently. "We need to go. You can interrogate me on the way."

-==0==-

The guard-captain reached into the top desk drawer and withdrew her silver flask, pouring a shot of the Antivan brandy contained within into her mug of coffee. She glanced at the flask for only a moment before taking a hit directly. It wasn't lost on her that this job was driving her to drink more than she ever had in the past. Even now, it was early enough in the day that the dining hall on the other side of the Keep still had breakfast available.

Dropping the flask back into the drawer, Aveline sighed and put her head in her hands. It was times like now that she especially missed Wesley. He could be frustratingly simple to her in how his answer to nearly every problem was faith, but at the same time that steadfast, unshakeable faith translated into a confidence that had always provided her a measure of comfort.

She knew without a doubt he'd be proud of her. As different as they were – seemingly incompatible opposites on the surface – Wesley had been her biggest supporter. But she also knew he'd laugh knowingly at how hard she was making things on herself. They both put a premium on honor and doing the right thing. The difference was that Aveline often struggled to figure out what exactly the right thing was. She all too often found herself in situations that couldn't be distilled cleanly into simple black and white containers.

It was ironic that the current source of consternation that had her thinking of Wesley involved the very person who mercy killed him. Aveline didn't know what she was going to do with Misery Hawke, who was still sitting in a cell two floors below in the Keep's dungeon turned prison.

She'd been surprised to say the least when Sergeant Melindra came to her quarters the previous night to report that her squad had taken someone into custody they suspected of being the Shadow. Her surprise turned to near disbelief when she went downstairs to see the prisoner and came face to face with her friend, stripped to her bloodied undergarments.

Leaving the rogue imprisoned was one of the hardest decisions Aveline had to make in her short time as the Captain of the Guard. But Misery was so openly hostile about her treatment at the hands of the Guard that Aveline didn't feel like she had any other option, lest she appear weak in front of her guardsmen both for allowing a prisoner to push her around and for not having their backs. In the end she ordered that Hawke be given a medicated poultice and a health potion for her injuries, and walked away stonefaced while Misery swore at her back.

Aveline knew the situation was complicated by it being personal – it was a classic conflict of interests. And as the pieces fell into place in her mind, she became disgusted with herself that Misery was such a blind spot to her that she'd never even considered the possibility of her being the Shadow, even though in hindsight it should have been obvious. There was no one she knew in Kirkwall more capable, and the brutally efficient stealth kills that were the modus operandi of the Shadow were signature Misery Hawke.

Knowing that her hold on objectivity was tenuous, Aveline had called Melindra, Brennan, and Donnic into her office first thing in the morning to discuss the situation further. They were her three most trusted guardsmen. Adding to the irony of the situation, Donnic and Brennan essentially admitted that Hawke previously having been directly involved in saving their own lives made it difficult condemn her.

With Melindra being the only of the four not owing Hawke their life in some measure and having also been an eye witness, Aveline was very interested in her perspective. Melindra pointed out that while she'd been skeptical of Hawke's story, the guard-captain herself had seen the dwarves hanging around the Hanged Man not half an hour prior to the incident, which backed up what Hawke claimed. But at the same time, without any of them alive to talk to, they couldn't know for sure who was stalking who.

Such it was that Aveline found herself drinking copious amounts of spiked coffee and alternating between disappointment and anger. And she couldn't decide whether either emotion was directed more at Hawke or herself. She was still pondering what to do when a familiar voice drew her attention.

"Nice security out there," Varric said while entering the office. "Sunshine and I got attacked in broad daylight by a couple of crazed dwarves."

Aveline's eyes grew wide initially before narrowing at the pair of uninvited guests. "What did you just say?"

"We were on our way from Lowtown when we got jumped. They were clearly trying to get Sunshine."

Bethany nodded. "There seemed to be something wrong with them, and somehow they knew who I was. They called me 'The Hawke' and kept muttering about 'blood of the Hawke'. It was _creepy_."

_Misery was telling the truth…_ Aveline thought grimly. But at the same time, the way she'd taken down the dwarves still left her convinced that she was the Shadow all along.

"Where is my sister?" Bethany asked when Aveline didn't reply right away.

The guard-captain scoffed. "Prison. Where else?"

"Aveline… please don't do this…" the mage pleaded. "She's done so much good."

Varric waved his hand. "You've got nothing and you know it. Yesterday you had _me _pegged as the Shadow."

"Why are you defending her?" Aveline asked. "She let you remain the prime suspect in order to cover up what she was doing."

"Because the Shadow is bullshit anyway… there never was a Shadow."

"What do you mean?" the captain asked suspiciously.

"I made it up. Like I told Misery, history is nothing but the best tales and they might as well be mine. Kirkwall is a violent city, especially at night. You know that as well as anyone. Yeah, the idea started with Misery and me taking out a group of highwaymen that were holding people up coming down the stairs from Hightown. But after that? I wouldn't be surprised if there were a dozen copy cats once I started the Shadow rumors." It was a classic Varric tale – one part fact, one part fiction, mix to suit the situation.

Aveline mock banged her head on the desk before standing up. "With your history of telling the truth, I probably shouldn't believe you. And I'm not sure that I even do. I think I just _want _to believe that Hawke hasn't been taking advantage of our friendship."

With a deep sigh, Aveline turned her eyes to the other woman. "Tell me the truth, Bethany. What am I supposed to believe here?"

"She's my sister and means the world to me. I wouldn't sell her out if my life depended on it," she quietly admitted. "But I will tell you this… when Varric came to the house and told me he thought my sister was in trouble because of what some guardsmen were bragging about at the Hanged Man, it was the first I'd ever heard of it. I… don't know how she would have had the time to be the Shadow. I mean, we've been so busy with everything else."

Aveline frowned. The mage's answer wasn't particularly reassuring, but she respected both the honesty and the loyalty. The latter reminded her that there was also this new, unsettling situation with a group of dwarves stalking the Hawkes. She assumed that meant Leandra was at risk as well.

After a minute of silence, she began to nod slowly and walked towards the door. "Brennan! In my office!"

A few moments later the guardswoman entered. "Captain?"

Aveline exhaled audibly. "Go get Hawke. Return _all_ of her equipment, and once she is dressed bring her to me."

At Brennan's questioning expression, she explained, "We have new information that confirms her story about last night. If you don't remember her, this is Bethany Hawke, and she was attacked this morning in a similar manner to what Misery claimed. In light of no other _conclusive_ evidence, I'm letting Hawke go… for now."

Brennan quickly nodded. She remembered Bethany, both from her having been with the group that rescued her from the ambush, and from the times she had come to the barracks to visit Aveline.

"Of course, Captain. I will return shortly."

-==0==-

While waiting for Guardswoman Brennan to return with her sister, Bethany thought about the conversation with her sister from the previous day, the one where Miri told her they were a dozen sovereigns ahead of where Bethany thought they were. And the cryptic explanation about how she'd been doing some work on her own and to ask her in a couple of years about it after things had blown over.

Bethany realized that it was true – Miri was the Shadow. She still didn't understand how her sister had managed to keep it a secret from her, though she also realized she'd been caught up in her own world, and between Anders and then Feynriel she hadn't paid as much attention to what Miri was doing as she might have in the past.

The sounds of multiple approaching people pulled the mage from her reverie, and she glanced up to see her sister with Brennan and another guardsman she didn't recognize. Miri's expression was closely guarded, but Bethany could see through it. Her aqua eyes reflected an intensity that barely concealed the fury she was holding back.

"Hawke," Aveline said, gesturing for Misery to take a seat. It was the redhead's standard greeting, though this time her tone carried an undercurrent of disdain.

Misery merely nodded once and sat, letting that serve as her curt reply.

The guard-captain thanked and dismissed her guards with orders to check around about strange behaving dwarves, closing the door behind them before walking over to stand in front of Misery. She had no delusions that the rogue would be intimidated by the Captain of the Guard towering over her, but she wanted to make it clear nonetheless who was in charge here.

"Bethany and Varric were attacked by more of those dwarves on their way over here. Do you know why?"

"No, I was interrupted last night before I could find out," Misery answered bitterly.

"Are they Carta?" Aveline asked. "You told me you had a run in with them on that Athenril job. Varric, do you know who they were with?"

Varric scoffed. "I don't know every dwarf in this city any more than you know every human. I don't think they were Carta though, the creepy shit about the Hawke blood doesn't fit them."

Aveline nodded and began to pace. "You've put me in a very difficult position, Hawke. As guard-captain I should throw your ass back in that cell and have you put on trial for the Shadow killings. But two of my three most trusted guards would probably testify on your behalf because you've saved their lives. And I'm not convinced the viscount would press the matter in light of yesterday."

The captain sighed deeply, continuing, "I don't like how much influence you're beginning to wield around here, because I know how you think. You'll exploit it to your advantage. Maker's breath, you're exploiting _me_ right now without even trying. I'm not going to lie to myself that our relationship isn't one of the reasons I'm letting you go. Look, I will always be grateful for what your family has done for me, and there's no one I trust more than you to keep Leandra and Bethany safe from whatever these dwarves are after. But I'm telling you this right now, Hawke, both as guard-captain and as your friend. Our slate is clean after this. You end up in my prison again, you _will _pay the consequences. Are we clear?"

Misery resisted the urge to scowl. Her mood was foul, but she was smart enough not to give Aveline an excuse to change her mind. Instead, she merely nodded.

"Good, now get out," Aveline said, motioning towards the door and turning away. Misery didn't hesitate, standing immediately and moving to leave.

"One other thing," the guard-captain called out before the others left. She turned her head slowly and stared Misery down. "Don't _ever_ try to embarrass me in front of my guards again."

With that parting shot she looked away. Misery and company filed out in silence.

-==0==-

Misery glanced at the sky as they descended the stairs from the Viscount's Keep and stepped on to Viscount's Way. It was late morning already. When they reached the end of Viscount's Way she continued straight towards the main square rather than turning right as expected towards the Red Lantern district and the stairs down to Lowtown.

"Where are you going?" Bethany asked.

"To the Qunari compound." The market was on the other side of the square, with the road leading from there down to the Docks.

Varric and Bethany exchanged glances. Neither thought it was a good idea for her to potentially go in front of the Arishok right now.

"Hey, Misery," Varric began, "if you want to go home to check on your mother and rest, I'll go talk to Tintop."

Misery stopped, taking and releasing a deep breath before turning around to face the other two. "If I wanted to go home I would. But I have things I need to do, and during the day I would rather present myself as a target moving around the city than sitting at Uncle's house. In fact, I _hope _we run into more of them so I can find out what's going on."

"Sister…"

"I am fine," Misery said, cutting Bethany off. "And I know you're dying to ask about what you've no doubt learned about me. Save it until tonight and I'll answer your questions."

Varric chuckled at the pouty expression on the mage's face. "Don't worry, Sunshine, she can't stay out too late tonight since we're leaving for Sundermount in the morning."

Bethany's eyes grew wide in alarm. She knew they were going, but the events of the morning had shoved the journey to the back of her mind. "We can't go to Sundermount with this going on! What if they go after Mother while we're gone?"

"I hate to agree on this, Misery, but she's right. Assuming you don't want to take your mother with us of course. Though who knows, maybe she'd actually like meeting Keeper Marethari. They could talk about… old people stuff."

Misery shook her head at the blatant attempt to lighten the mood but cracked a slight grin anyway.

"Sister… you have to stay home," Bethany said matter-of-factly. She resisted the urge to direct her eyes towards the ground when her sister's heavy glare fell on her. Instead, she forced herself to stay firm. "If something happens at the house you're going to be better able to handle it, since most likely I would have to use magic if there was more than one."

"And dwarves are notoriously resistant to most magic," Varric added knowingly. "So you'd be hard pressed to be subtle with it."

Misery sighed in exasperation. "Who does that leave going to Sundermount?" She was going to pull the plug on the trip altogether if she didn't like the party makeup.

"Me, Varric, Isabela, Fenris, and I guess Revas if you think it's alright for me to take him. And Feynriel of course."

"What about Anders?" Misery asked.

Bethany shook her head. "I didn't ask him. The way he's been behaving, I'm assuming he has no interest in going."

Misery closed her eyes. _I can't believe I'm about to do this._

"Okay," she replied, "when we're done with the Qunari we're going to Darktown to talk to Anders. He's a tool and I hope you see that now, but I want his healing skills with you."

Misery resumed walking but stopped after a few steps. "I want to go see Tomwise while we're there and pick up some more incendiaries. Then Merrill after that. She'll probably be happy to help me investigate around town while you guys are gone." Looking at Bethany she added, "And I might ask her to stay over in case we do get attacked at the house. She can have your bed."

"At least it wouldn't be any worse than what she's used to," Bethany replied with a shrug. She didn't mind if Merrill slept in her bed, she was just pleasantly surprised that her sister even considered asking the elf for help. And that she hadn't put up more of a fight about Sundermount.

-==0==-

The group wasn't even to the market when Misery became suspicious of a roguish elven woman casually trailing them.

"Don't make it obvious looking back, but I believe we've picked up a tail," she said quietly. "Red haired elf about fifty feet back. Split off when we enter the market, we'll see what she does. Whoever she follows, the other two slip in behind her on the way out the other side. Lead her a bit away from the market and then we'll ambush her."

Passing through the market, the elf ignored Varric going right and Bethany going left and continued along the straight path taken by Misery, who after pausing briefly to look over the goods on display at a weapons merchant and confirm the elf was still interested in her, continued on the way to the gate.

The elven woman smirked as she followed the other woman out of the market. She knew the group was on to her and that the woman's other two companions had circled around behind her, but that didn't bother her. On the contrary, it only impressed her and made her more confident of her choice. But for now she'd play the game and wait for them to confront her.

A short distance later Misery rounded a bend on the path. Out of the line of sight of her pursuer, she drew her daggers and waited. What she wasn't expecting was what happened next – a quartet of dwarves coming up the road from the Docks rushing her. She swore under her breath at the bad timing of the interruption, but turned to face it.

"Get the Hawke!" one of the dwarves shouted. Misery lunged at him, driving the man back on the defensive before kicking him out of the way and spinning to intercept an incoming strike. With her right hand dagger she lifted her opponent's blade to create an opening for the point of the blade in her left hand to find a home in the dwarf's ribcage.

Before she could pull the blade out, another dwarf wielding a maul clubbed her in the back, taking her breath with the force of impact, which knocked her from her feet and sent her sprawling forward over the dwarf she had just killed.

A dagger tumbling end over end stuck in the chest of the dwarf carrying the maul.

"What are you waiting for?" the elven rogue who threw the blade shouted at Bethany and Varric. "She's being attacked!"

While Bethany snatched the staff from her back and raced in, Varric drew Bianca and fired a quick triplet, missing badly. Gritting his teeth in frustration, he took a little longer to line up his next shot and was rewarded with a screech from the dwarf he hit. He started to fire again, but held his shot when Sunshine crossed into his field of vision. Not wanting to risk hitting her, he lowered his crossbow and took off running to get a closer and better angle.

The elven rogue finished off the dwarf that had been wounded by Varric with another thrown blade, but the last dwarf jumped on the wounded Misery, driving his knee into her badly bruised back. She willed herself to turn and fight back, twisting her torso and swinging her elbow. However, she was barely halfway into the move before the pain shooting through her back nearly caused her to black out.

Her arm fell harmlessly to the side and she could offer no resistance as the deranged dwarf roughly shoved her on to her back and punched her. They needed the Hawke alive, but he had no problem throttling her to within an inch of her life for killing his brothers. He pulled back and punched her again, smiling in grim satisfaction at the sight of her eyes rolling back as she struggled to hold on to consciousness.

The single-minded focus on his prey rendered him oblivious to the others approaching. Bethany spun her staff and swung hard, catching the dwarf flush in the side of the head. The blow from the iron reinforced end nearly caved the man's head in, and was plenty enough force to kill him.

"Sister!" Bethany gasped, falling to her knees next to the older girl. She quickly looked around to see if there was anyone around to witness if she cast healing spells. Seeing the elven woman that had been following them, she scowled and then turned her attention back to her sister.

"Can you manage the pain just a little while until I can get rid of the onlooker?" she asked softly.

Misery grunted. "Y-yeah…" she hissed. "G-get an elfroot p-potion from my pack and h-help me sit up."

While Bethany tended to Misery and Varric stood watch, the elven woman finally decided to approach.

"Wh-who the fuck are you?" Misery asked breathlessly. "And why were you f-following? Rather con-convenient timing."

The elf laughed. "Ahhh, the suspicious sort I see. It's no coincidence that I'm here, but no, I didn't arrange this. I have, however, been looking for you. My name is Tallis."

"What do you want?" Bethany asked.

"It is my understanding that you are in possession of an invitation to Chateau Haine. Or more accurately, your mother is."

Misery looked at the elf suspiciously. "And just h-how would you kn-know this? Because I h-have no idea what you are talking about."

"I heard about it from Gamlen. You'd be amazed at how loose his lips get after a little wine and flirting."

Misery started to laugh before the lingering pain cut off her mirth. Bethany chuckled anyway. "_Amazed_ is the _last _thing we'd be," the mage remarked.

Tallis shrugged. "Chateau Haine is the home of Duke Prosper de Montfort, a high ranking Orlesian noble. He likes to host extravagant parties and wyvern hunts. But more than that, I need to relieve him of something he has no right to possess, and I can't do it alone. I am hoping you will help."

Bethany frowned. "Why would Mother have an invitation to an Orlesian noble's party?"

"If I h-had to guess, it's a mistake," Misery answered. "Probably sent to the Amells not realizing they are no longer nobility."

"Regardless," Tallis said, "the invitation itself is the key to getting in. And from what I hear, you're good at getting things done. I'm sure you clean up well enough to pass for nobility."

"What do you mean? What kind of job is this?"

"We'll need to go in undercover, which means dressing the part and playing the role of a party guest."

Varric laughed. "Misery decked out in a formal gown? That I've gotta see."

Bethany raised an eyebrow curiously. "No offense, but wouldn't they find an elf attending to be rather suspicious?"

"True…" Tallis replied, sighing bitterly. "I would need to go as your servant."

"Where is this chateau?" Bethany asked. "I have never heard of it."

"A few days west of here, up in the mountains."

Warning bells were tolling in Misery's head. Smug elven rogue, Orlesian noble, formal party. This sounded all too familiar… painfully familiar.

"So what is it you're looking to steal exactly?" Varric asked.

"A jewel, one that he shouldn't have in the first place. And I'm sure there will be other things that strike your fancy as well. If nothing else, you'll get to enjoy fine food and wine, and fancy company. But I'm hoping we'll come away with much more than that."

Varric chuckled. "Sounds like fun. What do you think, Hawke?"

Misery chewed on her bottom lip, grimacing but not from the pain she was currently in. The opportunity sounded promising, but…

"I can't do it… sorry."

Tallis frowned. "May I ask why not? I have spent a fair amount of time looking into you, and I know this is right up your alley."

Misery decided on a partial answer. "It's all risk on my part and I have too many other things going on that are higher priority right now." That was true, but far from the complete truth.

"I see… what will it take for you to reconsider?"

"I gave you my answer. _No_."

Varric had a thought. "Hey, Hawke, what about Rivaini?"

"What about her?"

Bethany caught on. "Isabela would probably love to do something like this, and it plays to her strengths too. And to be honest, I wouldn't mind going to a fancy party. When is it?"

Tallis smiled. "The duke holds these parties several times a year. The next one is in a few weeks, though I imagine your mother's invitation is non-specific and could be used at any of them."

Misery sighed. Wanting to just get rid of the elf at this point so Bethany could work her magic before anyone else came along, she glanced up at Tallis and said, "Go to the Hanged Man and ask for Isabela, she has a room there. Tell her Misery Hawke sent you. If she wants to do it, fine, she can have the invitation." She looked over at her sister and added, "We'll talk later about you going, Bethany."

After Tallis agreed and left, Misery hung her head. "Fucking dwarves," she breathed.

"Present company, excluded, of course," Bethany quickly added almost apologetically.

Varric laughed. "No worries, Sunshine, I know what she meant."

"Loot the bodies, Varric," Misery said. "See if they have any useful information on them. Bethany… _please _cast a healing spell or two before I pass out. Oh, and Varric?"

When he looked at her questioningly, she continued, "Good thinking on passing the job along to Isabela. And thank you for not pushing me on it."

The dwarf nodded. He was proud of her for not shutting down and being unwilling to consider any other options once she'd decided she didn't want the job. But instead of telling her that, he offered a sarcastic, "Yeah, probably for the best. I'm not sure I'd even recognize you all made up and in frilly noble attire."

Bethany laughed. "You should have seen her when we went to that party with Athenril. She looked amazing. I couldn't stop laughing at how shocked Mother was when she saw her."

Misery scoffed lightly. "Yeah, except Mother pestered me for weeks afterwards about how I should take the time to look like that all the time. I am already dreading the move to Hightown and having her scoping out every noble house for a suitable husband for me." She shuddered slightly at the thought.

"I can imagine…" Varric offered dryly before moving away to loot the nearby bodies.

He knew they'd take the remark to be in reference to their mother trying to marry Misery off, but he really meant it in regards to how beautiful she would have appeared made up and in fancy clothes. He could imagine because it wasn't like she needed that stuff to look good. He wasn't sure he'd ever forget the image of her sitting by the Sundermount campfire, freshly cleaned up from a bath in a mountain stream.

As the warm tingle of the mage's healing magic worked its way over her, Misery sighed softly. She really did want to just go home and crawl into bed at this point. But she quickly dismissed the thought. There was still too much to get done before she could rest.

_And besides_, she thought, _how much worse could today get?_

_._

* * *

><p><em>AN: Annoying Skyrim quote in the chapter for anyone who caught it. And I'm sure if you've played the game, you caught it ;)<em>


	20. Your Truth is My Lie

Continuing through the Docks district towards the Qunari compound, the sight of a rather conspicuous elf arguing demonstrably with a dock worker drew the group's attention. Varric and Bethany automatically veered from their course, effectively dragging Misery along with them by virtue of not leaving a decision to be made. They arrived just as the elf cursed in a foreign tongue and spun away from the man.

"Fenris? Is everything alright?" Bethany asked.

Surprise at the unexpected presence briefly flashed across the elf's countenance before his scowl returned. "It is nothing," he answered with the wave of a hand. With a nod over his shoulder, he added, "Bad information."

He walked a short distance before stopping and sighing. "I was sold information on the whereabouts of a spy for Danarius. It was worthless. If there even was a spy, I suspect they were gone long before the information was passed to me."

"I'm sorry," Bethany offered sympathetically. "I know what it's like to live worrying that someone is coming for you."

Fenris sighed again, but merely nodded rather than scolding her for comparing being a mage on the run to his situation. He was less suspicious of her than when they first met, but that didn't mean he completely trusted her or didn't think she belonged in the Gallows. Still, the older Hawke had made it abundantly clear that she had no tolerance for him saying anything that could be construed as antagonistic towards her sister, and she was a bridge he was unwilling to burn at this point.

"Anyway…" Misery said, "We need to go. I want to get this business with Tinhead and the Arishok over with."

"You are going before the Arishok?" Fenris asked, staring curiously. "We have not done the job."

Misery shrugged, smirking slightly. "It's not like he or she is going to know that. Neither will that stupid dwarf that's paying us."

Fenris scoffed. "Foolish. You will die."

"What makes you say that?" Varric asked.

"You lack basic enough knowledge of the Qunari culture to even know what you are getting yourselves into. The Arishok is always male, is the commander of their military, and that is no mere ceremonial title. Even should you succeed today, the Arishok will learn of your deceit and then be bound by the Qun to right that wrong… _harshly_."

Varric shook his head and turned to Misery. "Call me crazy, but I don't think adding another group bent on killing you is a great idea right now." Bethany nodded vehemently in agreement.

Misery ran her fingers through her hair while contemplating the situation. "Fair enough…" she finally relented.

"Perhaps you should start by finding out if the dwarf even had an agreement with the Arishok," Fenris suggested. "As I said yesterday, I am skeptical. Accepting outside assistance is not the Qunari way. Neither is sharing their knowledge of warfare."

"You seem to know a lot about them," Bethany noted. "Have you been around many Qunari?"

Fenris frowned while staring at his feet. "It is not a tale I am comfortable telling. However, if you wish, I would accompany you to the Arishok."

Misery nodded and gestured for him to follow. As she resumed her march towards the Qunari compound, she completely missed Bethany smiling gratefully at the elf and Varric slapping him on the back in approval while they all fell in behind the female rogue.

-==0==-

"About time you showed up!" Javaris grumbled at the approaching group. "I've been waiting for hours!" He turned away immediately and shouted, "Summon your Arishok! The bargain is done!"

"Wait!" Misery hissed, but the dwarf was already striding towards the short flight of stone steps leading up to a platform that featured a large, wood and stone carved throne as its centerpiece. A pair of unarmed yet dangerous enough looking Qunari flanked either side of the currently vacant seat.

Misery quickly caught up to Javaris, but as she was about to speak she caught a glimpse of an even larger Qunari emerge from a room to her right of the throne. Her eyes became transfixed on what could only be the Arishok.

The man was powerfully built, the blueish gray skin of his bare upper half adorned with blood red war paint. The most noticeable thing to set him apart from the others wasn't the slightly ornate gold and red gauntlets, red scaled pauldrons, or red silk sash around his waist. It was that he was physically larger than any of the other Qunari she had seen in the past or in this compound. He was more muscular, which was saying something, as well as taller. Even the dual horns protruding from his forehead were more pronounced.

Seeing the Arishok for the first time provoked different thoughts and feelings from the group. For Bethany, the thought crossed her mind that this was a creature seemingly built for battle. As soon as it did, a series of images flashed in front of her eyes, images of the other creature she'd once made that same observation about – the darkspawn ogre that killed Carver.

The mage unconsciously shook her head. No, the similarities between the ogre and the Arishok both began and ended with that observation. The Arishok was clearly no mindless beast, and Bethany thought his methodical steps seemed to carry an unseen burden.

Varric glanced around nervously. He was fully aware that all eyes were on them, and that the atmosphere of the encampment as a whole was tense. While he didn't previously have a problem with Hawke's plan to lie about the Tal-Vashoth, he was relieved that the plan changed after running into the broody elf on the way. Because pissing these guys off seemed like an exceptionally bad idea.

The dwarf silently offered up a prayer that Misery would control her tongue. He wasn't a religious man, but he knew Misery and that it may very well take divine intervention to make her back down from someone. And he frankly didn't give a damn who answered the prayer, whether it was the Ancestors, Maker, or Creators. He'd even take Flemeth at this point.

_Oxman, indeed_, Misery thought. She wasn't one that thought about others in terms of commonly thrown around racial slurs, but in this instance it seemed rather fitting. However, despite the obvious impressiveness of the Arishok's physical attributes, what struck Misery the most was something much more subtle. As he made his way over to the throne, she noted that not even once did he spare a glance in their direction. That simple act, or non-act as it were, was the kind that spoke volumes.

It expressed that he was supremely confident that they were no threat, and more than that showed he was completely disinterested by the visitors. That was reinforced when he sat down and leaned forward with his forearms resting on his knees. Then his stoic expression briefly cracked, allowing a tiny glimpse of emotion. He appeared bored, as if they were so far beneath him that he couldn't care enough for it to bleed into disdain. She'd have found it amusing if it wasn't so disconcerting.

Fenris stepped forward and bowed his head almost reverentially before speaking, "Arishokost. Maraas shokra. Anaan esaam Qun." He bowed his head once more after offering the formal greeting of peace and assurance of the Qun.

The Arishok's eyebrows twitched upwards in momentary surprise. "The Qun from an elf?" he asked in a deep, gravelly tone. "The madness of this… place." The frown that accompanied the pause before practically spitting out _place_ suggested a far less polite word had come to mind first rather than it being a case of merely grasping for vocabulary in his non-native tongue.

Misery and the others glanced curiously at Fenris, not knowing what he said or what to make of the Arishok's reaction other than it didn't seem hostile.

"What did he mean, Fenris?" Bethany asked quietly. "That you are a follower of the Qun?"

"Rather scrawny for a Qunari," Misery said.

Fenris scowled and waved his hand dismissively. "I strongly suggest not wasting the Arishok's time with pointless banter."

Javaris chuckled a bit uneasily before turning his attention back to the Arishok. "Yes, well, that said, I am here to report that your hated Tal-Vashoth were felled one and all." He glanced at Hawke for moment. "Right?"

She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could he answered his own question and moved on. "Yes, they were. So, I'm ready to open negotiations for the explosive powder, as we agreed."

Misery put her forehead in the palm of her head and shook her head. Even no longer intending to lie about it, Javaris was plowing ahead without even talking to her first. Varric and Bethany exchanged concerned glances over the direction this was going, while Fenris simply maintained his scowl while staring at the ground in silence.

The Arishok leaned a little further forward, his eyes narrowing in annoyance with the dwarf. "No," he answered.

Javaris looked over at Misery. "He's not getting it. Make your chatty elf say something useful."

"Fenris belongs to no one," Bethany quickly blurted out. She truly believed that, but here she was trying to head off Fenris' anger before it caught fire. She knew he wouldn't otherwise handle well the implication he was beholden to her sister as either a slave or servant.

Surprise flickered in the elf's eyes before he caught and composed himself. He turned his thoughts away from the mage's reaction and towards what he was going to say. He refused to lie to the Arishok. When he looked to Misery and she merely stared at him expectantly, he sighed.

"I humbly request clarification from the Arishok," he said. "Was there an agreement? And if so, what were the terms?"

The Arishok leaned back slightly, his expression taking on an almost amused quality as he sized up the elf standing at the base of the steps. "I have a growing lack of disgust for you," he finally answered before waving his hand.

"The dwarf imagined the deal for the gaatlok," the Arishok explained. "He invented a task to prove his worth, when he has _none_."

Fenris nodded in understanding. He'd expected as much. He glanced over to see how Hawke was going to proceed, wanting to see for himself whether she would offer the truth about the Tal-Vashoth on her own or if she'd be content to deceive the Arishok through omission if not asked about it.

Misery rubbed her face in frustration. "Get the fuck out of here before I kill you myself," she hissed at Javaris.

The dwarf's eyes opened wide in surprise. "Wait, what now?"

The Arishok scoffed. "If you faced Tal-Vashoth, he is not worthy of dying to you. As he was not worthy of dying to them. Let him live. And leave."

Javaris appeared indignant. "But he has to sell! It's a product. People want it!"

"There is no profit in empowering those not of the Qun!" the Arishok growled in irritation. "The means of creating the gaatlok is ours alone. It shall be dispensed only to our enemies, in the traditional manner."

Misery didn't know what the "traditional manner," meant, but she did know by his body language and tone that his patience was coming to an end.

"You are… a frustrating people!" Javaris exclaimed, pointing his finger at the Arishok.

Misery drew the knife above her left hip and pointed it at the dwarf's throat almost faster than his eyes could track the action. "This is your last chance to leave with your life. I will _not_ have you risking mine by provoking him."

Javaris scowled but spun and stormed away. On the way out he grumbled, "You're fired! Sodding bunch of oxmen and dog lords. Bah!"

The Arishok stood. "You will leave as well, human. There is no coin for you here."

Misery sighed while sheathing her knife. "No coin would be necessary anyway. We didn't kill the Tal-Vashoth."

"Interesting. Why do you gain a conscience now?"

"Fenris was skeptical that you would accept aid from outsiders," she began, gesturing towards the elf. "So we came here to find out if it was even a legitimate job. However, Tinhead assumed by us merely showing up that we'd completed the task, then wouldn't shut up long enough for me to explain. Anyway, I just thought you should know that group of Tal-Vashoth is still out there."

"I already knew."

Misery stared back quizzically. "Then why didn't you call us on it earlier when Tinhead made the claim?"

"As there was no deal for the gaatlok, any task performed or not performed was irrelevant."

"I see…" she replied, mentally kicking herself for so badly underestimating the Arishok. "Yesterday we did come across one of your people out on the Wounded Coast. He was killed by the Winters, a mercenary group that was after the viscount's son."

"Yes," Bethany added, "Saemus, the viscount's son, said his name was Ashaad. He said they were friends."

Fenris cleared his throat. "It was not our intent to insert ourselves into your affairs. However, the mercenaries attacked us as well, forcing us to kill them."

The Arishok considered the information for a few moments before nodding. "You keep good company," he said, gesturing towards Fenris. "Panahedan, human."

With that parting the Arishok walked away, leaving Misery and company to do the same.

"Thank you, Fenris," Bethany said as they exited the compound. "I hate to think how badly that could have gone had you not been with us."

Varric nodded in agreement. "Glad we ran into you." With a grin he continued, "One of these days though I'll have to get you drunk enough to tell the story of how you know so much about the Qunari."

Misery made eye contact with the elf and nodded once. Though she said nothing, words were unnecessary to convey the simple expression of gratitude.

A slight smile found its way on to Fenris' face as he nodded in acknowledgment. However, a short distance later his expression faltered. Being in close proximity both to the Qunari and to companions who valued him served as a painful reminder of a previous time when he'd escaped from Danarius.

Fenris had ended up in the jungle of Seheron, finding refuge and camaraderie among the freedom fighters known as the Fog Warriors, who made their camp there. The source of his consternation, however, was how his time with them ended. Danarius tracked him down, and in the process of retrieving his slave he ordered Fenris to slaughter the Fog Warriors. The elf regretfully complied.

Even then, Fenris understood the purpose behind his master's command. Danarius wanted more than simply severing that tie. He also wanted to crush the elf's will. By making Fenris betray and slaughter people he cared for, Danarius forced him not only to demonstrate his loyalty, but to understand that he was alone. Anyone the elf befriended or sought help from would be subject to the same treatment.

Walking away from the Qunari compound, Fenris briefly questioned whether or not the same thing would happen with Hawke and the others. Not that he felt anywhere near the same connection to them at this point that he'd had with the Fog Warriors who had taken him in and taught him the Qun. It was a thought he quickly rejected though. No, unlike with the Fog Warriors, there was no going back. Next time he would either remain free or die trying.

-==0==-

"Huh?" Misery asked in response to the poke in the arm she received from her sister.

Bethany nodded towards Varric, who shook his head.

Misery had been quiet since they left the Qunari compound. She hadn't even said anything sarcastic when Fenris learned they were on their way to Anders' clinic and excused himself from going with them. But it was hardly unusual for her to simply listen and observe without contributing to any conversion going on, so the dwarf had assumed she was at least aware of him speaking. Apparently he was wrong.

"I asked if I'd already told you that one, but I'm guessing you have no idea," he said.

"Sorry, wasn't really listening. Another story I take it?"

She'd grown accustomed to Varric filling their travel time with his many, many stories, and she didn't mean her comment as dismissively as it came out. She usually enjoyed listening to his stories even while suspecting that at least half of them were completely made up. At the moment, however, her thoughts were distracted by the developing situation with the unknown dwarves and what had happened with Aveline and the City Guard.

"_Another_ story? Ouch…" he grumbled, pretending to be offended. He understood she had a lot on her mind.

"I don't think she meant it quite like that," Bethany suggested. "Maybe-"

"Bethany!" Misery said, interrupting the mage. She sighed and shook her head. "You're doing it _again_. Stop apologizing for me."

Varric laughed. "Hey, we're the younger children. Apologizing for our obnoxious older siblings just comes with the territory." He winked at Bethany, who giggled. Misery rolled her eyes in response.

"Anyway," Varric continued, "you should just be happy that I have a large collection of stories to tell. I knew this assassin, Lucien Lachance. You know how many stories that guy had? One! One stupid story!"

Varric cleared his throat, and in a tone roughly an octave below his normal pitch, asked, "'Have you heard the tale of Mathieu Bellamont and the great treachery of Cheydinhal?'"

The dwarf began to tense up in irritation even as he spoke. "Yes, Lucien!" he growled as if Lucien was actually there to hear his answer. "Two hundred and seventy-eight ear bleeding times already! You even blew my cover on that last job when you started in on Mathieu Bellamont just as I was sneaking up on the target! What in the Void is wrong with you? Why can't you remember that you've already told the story? And why can't you go more than five minutes without telling it again? It's not even that good! So shut up about Mathieu Bellamont already!"

The longer he ranted, the redder his face became and the louder his voice got. Finally he blew out a long breath and rubbed his face. Misery and Bethany exchanged glances before staring back at him curiously.

"Feel better?" Misery asked.

Varric waved his hand. "Forget it." He fell mostly silent, occasionally muttering to himself.

"Can dwarves be possessed by demons?" Bethany wondered aloud before smiling innocently in response to the disgruntled expression Varric flashed in her direction.

-==0==-

"So it's settled then?" Misery asked Anders. "You'll go to Sundermount with them and while you're gone I'll see that the clinic's supplies are restocked?"

The mage nodded. "I'll write up a list of what I need before you go."

He'd initially declined to go on the journey, citing a need to get caught up at the clinic after spending so much time away recently helping the Hawkes, and in particular needing to earn some extra coin to replenish the storeroom shelves. After all, running a free clinic didn't mean that the poultices, potions, salves, and so on paid for themselves. But when Misery explained that she wasn't making the trip and offered to acquire what he needed for the clinic during his absence, he quickly relented. He suspected she wasn't going to simply purchase the supplies out of her own pocket, but he really didn't care as long as what he needed was there when he got back.

"You two wait here," Misery ordered while beginning to follow Anders towards the back. Varric and Bethany looked at her in confusion over why she wanted them wait in the front room, but didn't argue.

Anders was quick to pick up on the situation, however. As they entered the storeroom he sarcastically asked, "So what was it you wanted to speak with me alone about?"

Misery smirked. "Not what you're probably thinking. I wanted to ask if you knew anything about magical wards that don't fall to a templar-style cleansing."

The mage's face contorted into an amalgamation of disgust, surprise, and curiosity. "Why are you asking? Didn't Bethany know?"

"I didn't ask her. It would invite questions I really don't want to answer, and believe it or not I try very hard to avoid lying to her. She has learned a thing or two about being manipulative, so I wouldn't put it past her to withhold the information until I told her why I needed it."

"I can only imagine where she learned _that _skill." When Misery gave no response to his jab, he shook his head. "What kind of wards are we talking about?"

"There is a Hightown estate I have been trying to get into for months. _Why_ is not your concern. The owner somehow keeps a ward or multiple wards over the doors and windows to prevent outside entry. You don't even know the barrier is there until you realize something stops your hand maybe an inch away."

Anders briefly wondered if the mage in question was the broody elf's Tevinter master, an idea he just as quickly rejected. Hawke wouldn't feel the need to be secretive about that. He also wondered if the mage owned the estate or was merely in some noble's employ in exchange for protection from the Chantry.

The thought of a mage living in Hightown intrigued him though. He was slowly establishing connections with other apostates in and around Kirkwall, though nearly all of them were in the same state as him in scratching out a rather meager existence. A mage with access to the resources necessary to live in Hightown and to remain undiscovered had the potential of being a useful ally, whether the mage was the actual estate owner or not.

"How often do you go there?" he finally asked. "Even for an experienced mage, maintaining wards like that for more than short periods of time would be difficult. It would be a huge draw on their mana."

Misery ran her fingers through her hair while considering the question. "I have gone by maybe twenty times in the last three or four months. Mostly at night, but not always. One time I saw a servant entering the estate, so obviously the door wasn't warded then. But I was with others at the time and couldn't do any snooping around. I went back that night though and the wards were back in place. Some nights I've hung around for hours hoping for an opening."

"Show me something…" he said, beginning to gesture at the back wall while uttering an incantation. Moments later the faint silver outline of a glyph became visible. He backed away as far as he could in the small storeroom. "Cleanse it."

She smirked knowingly. He was testing her to see if the problem dispelling the wards was simple inability on her part. Still, she stepped forward and took a deep breath, gathering her concentration and willpower. She raised an open hand while chanting softly until an invisible force manifested itself and the glyph dissolved before their eyes.

Anders sighed, his previous internal enthusiasm regarding the mystery mage waning as realization set in. "Multiple warding glyphs that are nearly always up, and unlike that one just now, don't respond to your cleanse. I'm surprised the obviousness of it didn't occur to you."

"What do you mean?"

"We saw something not all that different on Sundermount, and you certainly understand that casting and sustaining spells has a physical cost. To do what you're describing… I am skeptical even a Tevinter magister could pull it off without supplementing their power with-"

"Blood…" Misery whispered, finishing the sentence for him. She wanted to smack herself in the forehead for missing that.

Anders nodded solemnly. "And given the ongoing length of time, most likely either someone else's blood or binding a demon… neither is good."

When half a minute or so elapsed in silence, he continued, "Don't ask her."

"Who?"

"You know who. Our friendly elven blood mage. Don't use her to get past the wards like she did on Sundermount. She isn't as strong as she thinks she is, and doesn't need any encouragement to give into temptation."

"What makes you think she would do it even if I asked?"

Anders snorted. "You're joking, right? She acts more like a puppy dog around you than Revas does. I doubt she'd refuse you on anything."

"Can't say I have noticed. In any case, I wouldn't ask that of her." With a smirk, she added, "If I did, next thing you know, Varric would be telling the story of my father coming out of the Fade to light my ass on fire… and I don't mean with magic."

Anders chuckled while nodding in approval.

_I'll… have to figure out some other way in,_ Misery thought, sighing. _Maybe borrow a trick from Varric's book and pay someone to keep track of all comings and goings from DuPuis' estate_.

Rather than voice those thoughts, however, she said, "Come on, let's get the supply list together."

-==0==-

"Thank you again for dinner," Leandra said as the two women along with Revas climbed the stairs to Gamlen's hovel. "It's nice having an evening of pleasant company and conversation every now and then."

Aveline noted the tinge of wistfulness in the older woman's tone, understanding her words were loaded with multiple meanings. It wasn't hard since much of their conversation over dinner had covered the topics entangled by those words. Rather than comment further on it, however, she replied, "It was my pleasure. We can do this more often once you're back in Hightown."

Truthfully, the guard-captain looked forward to that. Despite the age difference, she felt very close to Leandra, even more so than she did to Misery and Bethany. To her, the older woman wasn't a maternal figure, but rather more like a favorite aunt. Close enough to feel like family yet not so close that discussing very personal things was awkward.

The older woman's expression brightened immediately. "I cannot thank you enough for that. I will be at the viscount's office the moment they open the doors for business in the morning."

"Not me, Leandra. I know you struggle with her, and Maker knows sometimes I can't decide whether she's a blessing or a curse to me, but your gratitude should go to Mireille. She used the opportunity afforded by returning Dumar's son to champion your cause."

Aveline knew not to refer to Leandra's oldest daughter as 'Misery' in her presence, though given how upset she still was at the girl, there were far worse things she wanted to call her at the moment. She sighed.

"Speaking of Mireille, do you mind if I come in for a few minutes? There is something else I need to speak with you about, something I would rather you hear from me than elsewhere."

Leandra looked at her curiously but nodded and opened the door to let them inside. As she expected, neither Gamlen nor the girls were home. After automatically checking each room, Revas trotted over and took up his familiar spot in the front room near the door.

"What has she done?" Leandra asked with a bit of trepidation seeping into her tone.

Aveline rubbed her face wearily. "You've heard of this 'Shadow' business, correct?"

"Of course, it has been the talk of the town for awhile now."

"Yes, well… I am not going to beat around the bush. Mireille spent last night in prison after my guards captured her. Despite one of our friend's attempts at misdirection and Mireille having a legitimate excuse for what she was doing last night when my guards found her, I'm almost certain she's the Shadow."

Leandra gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. Aveline held up her hands and gestured for her to relax while continuing, "I'm not completely convinced it was the right thing to do, but I set her free this morning. As long as she stays out of trouble, that's the end of it, though our friendship is admittedly not in a good place right now."

The older woman nodded sadly. "No matter how well meaning she might have been, I can imagine she made your job much more difficult. Still, I thank you for letting her go. I… I am not sure I could handle losing another child."

Aveline resisted the urge to tell Leandra that 'well meaning' wasn't even a part of Misery's thought processes, not wanting her own bitterness to further sour Leandra's relationship with her daughter. Instead, she replied, "She showed no sign of even caring how her actions affected me. Leandra… the viscount _might _have shown leniency because she rescued his son, but he and the seneschal have been furious about the Shadow, so more likely she would have hung."

The guard-captain shook her head and continued, "That said, I told her… the debt I felt I owed the family is paid in full with this. We're even, and if she does something to end up in my jail again, she will receive no preferential treatment from me."

Leandra let out a long sigh of exasperation with her daughter. She began to pace the small room.

Aveline mistook her reaction and said, "I'm sorry, Leandra. You know I don't want you to suffer any further. But I can't have her undermining the integrity of my position. I can't look my guards in the eyes and say the law applies equally to everyone if I don't hold myself to that standard."

"I am not upset with you. I am frustrated that I don't know what to do with Mireille. And scared that she is going to get both herself and Bethany killed or imprisoned. I wish Malcolm was here to fix this. She would listen to him."

The older woman looked away, losing the battle with her emotions. "Damn him!" she swore. "I warned him something like this would happen!"

Aveline was surprised at the uncharacteristic outburst, but didn't interrupt as Leandra kept going.

"We made her grow up too fast. I remember… she was barely eleven the first time she killed someone. It was only a bandit who sought to rob Malcolm and her on their way back from the market, but she was far too enthusiastic about it. And Malcolm laughed it off, said it worked to their advantage that no one would see a little girl like her as a threat. The bandit was apparently so focused on him that he never saw her take him from behind."

Leandra sighed deeply. "That she had taken a life never seemed to register, the only thing that mattered was she had protected her family. Malcolm encouraged that mindset in all of the children, even more so in Mireille with her being the oldest. He was a good, caring man with a heart for helping others, but nothing mattered more to him than the freedom and safety of our family. There was nothing he would not do to protect that."

"She definitely takes after him in placing family first," Aveline said quietly.

"Yes… however, he did not go seeking conflict, nor did he try to solve every problem with violence. Mireille became increasingly aggressive after his death, though it did not begin then and worsened after we were forced to flee Lothering. I believe Malcolm kept her shielded from the worst things he did, but… he used her appearance of innocence as a tool while honing her skills with blades and bow. She became almost an extension of him, yet without the wisdom afforded by age and life experience."

Aveline nodded in understanding. "So that's what you meant when you said you warned Malcolm? That she was being given the skills and responsibilities of an adult without the perspective to handle them in a healthy way?"

"Yes, it was one thing to ask her to help hunt food with her bow. It was entirely different to ask her to hold people's lives in her hands. It was not fair of us to ask so much of her at such a young age. I told Malcolm it concerned me that she was not bothered by taking lives, that I worried about the consequences of it in the future."

"I imagine her eagerness had to be rather unsettling."

"Mireille was almost always eager when it came to her father. But yes, I hated the idea of my little girl actually feeling pride at ending a life, even if it was done in the context of protecting the family. You know, I was… relieved when she and Carver joined the militia. I thought it would be good for both of them. But then, you know the rest."

Aveline nodded solemnly. She opened her mouth to speak, but just then the door opened to reveal Misery and Bethany entering the house.

The temperature immediately seemed to drop in the room by a considerable amount.

"Well, isn't this delightfully awkward?" Bethany asked when several long moments went by with no one speaking.

Misery scowled. "Were you here for me, or am I safe to go change?"

"Don't start with me, Hawke," Aveline warned. "I took Leandra to dinner and was just dropping her off. I also told her about the dwarves that have targeted you and Bethany and asked her to be careful going out until you knew more about what was going on."

Leandra leveled a glare at her oldest. "Is it because of this Shadow business you have been up to?"

Misery's lips pursed and she clenched her fists in anger. But when she didn't answer right away, her mother bitterly added, "Just how many people have you killed anyway?"

"I don't know," the rogue hissed in reply. "I have long since lost count." She stormed out of the room, going into her shared bedroom and beginning to noisily divest herself of her equipment.

Bethany sighed in frustration. "Was it really necessary for the two of you to ambush her like that?"

"That was _not_ my intention," Aveline quickly replied.

The mage waved her hand dismissively as she looked to her mother. "Could you have at least thanked her for risking her life to get the estate back first?" Her eyes moved back to the guard-captain. "Or did you leave that part out in the rush to condemn her?"

"That is enough, Bethany!" Leandra exclaimed. "Aveline is not at fault here!"

The redhead sighed. It was no surprise to her that Bethany was fiercely defensive of her sister, and she really didn't want to get into an argument with her while both were equally likely to say something they'd regret later. Instead she turned her attention to Leandra.

"I should be getting back to the barracks. Stop by my office after you see the seneschal in the morning to let me know how it went." She glanced briefly at the mage as she moved towards the door. "Be safe," she said simply on her way out.

Leandra turned and went into the room she shared with Gamlen. Bethany tapped her foot in irritation before following her. She stood in the doorway and folded her arms across her chest.

"Just so you know, Miri isn't going to Sundermount now. She and Merrill are going to protect you and also investigate what these dwarves want with us, while I go to the Dalish with the others. Merrill will be staying over while I'm gone. Please tell Uncle to keep his mouth shut if anyone asks him about the Hawkes. And don't go anywhere without taking Revas with you. In fact, Miri will accompany you to the Viscount's Keep and back, whether either of you like it or not."

The older woman frowned. "Are you done ordering your mother around?"

"Don't be like this, Mother. She deserved your praise when we came through that door, not a scolding. And we are only trying to keep you safe. Whatever these dwarves want, it's more than just to talk. They've attacked us separately and together, and all we've been able to figure out is that they know who we are and it has something to do with our blood."

"Blood?"

Bethany nodded. "We've each heard the phrase 'blood of the Hawke' spoken during different attacks."

The color drained out of Leandra's face. "No…" she whispered hoarsely. "It cannot be that, they promised… they _swore _that was the end of it…" She trailed off, putting her face in her hand.

"Mother? What are you talking about? Who is 'they'?"

"The Grey Wardens!" she exclaimed. She strode forward and grabbed her daughter by the arm. "Come, I will explain this to both of you at the same time."

-==0==-

"Maker's breath!" Leandra exclaimed as she led Bethany into the girls' bedroom to find Mireille standing with her back to the door, a back sporting a nasty purple and black bruise that covered nearly half of it. The rogue turned around and her mother's eyes opened wider at the wounded thigh that the girl was in the process of redressing. "What happened to you?"

"I didn't defend well enough," Misery replied evenly. "Or kill fast enough. Whichever way you want to look at it."

She sighed when Leandra merely frowned in response. "The leg was while saving Dumar's son, the back was while fending off some crazed dwarves with a rather intense interest in our blood. On the plus side, I lived, they didn't."

Leandra shook her head at the girl's nonchalant attitude, but the reminder of the Hawke blood brought her back to that more pressing concern. "I might know what the interest in your blood is about," she said, beginning to pace.

"When I was pregnant with Mireille and your father and I were trying to get from the Marches to Ferelden, he met some Grey Wardens that promised us safe passage in exchange for helping them with something at one of their towers in the Vimmark Mountains. Malcolm went with them while I stayed at one of their encampments. He would not go into much detail afterwards, but he was very, very angry with the Grey Wardens and made them swear never to contact us again."

"But what does that have to do with our blood?" Bethany asked.

"Malcolm said they made him use his blood in some kind of ritual, and one of the reasons he so strongly insisted on the Grey Wardens agreeing never to contact us again was because he was afraid they would come back years later and make him do it again. Or worse… take our child."

Bethany bowed her head. "If that's what this is about, then they are after us because we are related to Father by blood." She looked at her sister. "And that would mean Mother is safe. She is a Hawke, but not by blood like we are."

"Not if they use her to get to us," Misery noted grimly. "I don't understand though, I can't see these insane dwarves being Grey Wardens."

Leandra fell into thought. "I believe Malcolm mentioned encountering darkspawn with the wardens, so it is possible there was some relation to the Deep Roads, and therefore the dwarves. But I am merely speculating."

"Well, either way," Misery said, "I think you are likely right that this has something to do with Father. And that's more than we knew before, so thank you."

"If the Grey Wardens are looking for you, remind them of their agreement to leave us alone." In a reticent whisper she added, "Maker, preserve my children…"

Misery and Bethany exchanged glances. Clearly she wasn't expecting it to be so simple. Then again, from what they had seen so far, neither did they.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Special thanks to Josie Lange for looking over and giving me some solid feedback on the scene with Varric ranting about the annoying spectral assassin Lucien Lachance from Skyrim.<em>


	21. Coming Apart, Coming Together

Misery, Merrill, and Isabela left the Gallows after having gotten around to delivering the spider silk glands to the Formari herbalist Solivitus. The merchant was quite surprised to see them given how the previous meeting with the woman leading them had ended, but was grateful to receive one of the items he'd been trying to acquire. Misery also informed Sol that her sister would be bringing back some ironbark from Sundermount, and that he probably shouldn't hold his breath waiting for dragon fangs.

Prior to that, the group had been nearly accosted by a borderline hysterical woman named Macha, who was desperate for someone to help find her brother, Keran, a templar recruit that was currently missing. She was convinced that something had happened to him, but couldn't get any of the other templars to tell her anything. Misery agreed to look into it only after Macha said she would come up with a few sovereigns in payment for finding her brother.

That led to Misery interrupting a trio of templar recruits on the way to Solivitus' stall and asking about Keran, which in turn revealed some disturbing rumors about recruits going missing as a result of a secretive initiation ritual conducted by Knight-Commander Meredith. From that conversation they found out another recruit, Wilmod, had gone missing at the same time as Keran, then had recently returned only to go camp outside of town for a few days in order to 'clear his head'. At this point the most logical way to proceed was to go talk to Wilmod and find out what he might know of Keran's whereabouts.

"Do you think it's wise to get involved with templar affairs?" Merrill quietly asked, bringing the subject back up from earlier.

Misery shrugged. "I have no intention of getting in too deep with this. If I think we're inviting too much scrutiny I'll put an end to it. Otherwise I only care to get enough of an answer to get paid."

Isabela sighed. At first she'd been happy when asked to help Misery rather than going to Sundermount with the others, thinking that what the girl was up to sounded much more interesting than escorting a kid on a several day nature hike. But so far it wasn't turning out that way.

"This is so boring," she complained. "Couldn't we just go steal something?"

"Oh, yeah…" Misery replied. "That reminds me I told Anders I'd restock his supply shelves while they were gone."

Isabela laughed. "You doing something nice for Anders? Sweetness put you up to it, didn't she?"

"Hardly. It was a bribe to get him to go on the trip with them."

"I don't know what she sees in him," Merrill admitted. "He frightens me."

"Think about it, Kitten," Isabela answered in a teasing tone. "She has a Grey Warden exploring her Deep Roads. You ever hear the stories of their legendary _stamina_?"

"Ugh…" Misery grunted. "That is not something I want to think about."

Isabela laughed again. "Do you think it counts as bedding two men at the same time? I suppose Justice isn't really a man though, so probably not."

"_Isabela…_" Misery growled a little more forcefully.

"You have been with many men?" Merrill asked the Rivaini curiously.

"And women. Though not as many as some may think," she answered with an indifferent shrug. "You?"

The tips of Merrill's ears reddened along with her cheeks as she blushed. "On-only one… b-back in Ferelden. He was nice."

"What about you, Hawke?" Isabela asked.

"What about me?"

"Men? Women? Both at the same time? Dwarves in drag? Tally?"

"I-I… wait, what? 'Dwarves in drag'?"

Isabela sighed. "Not one of my better decisions. I don't recommend it."

Misery shook her head and continued walking.

"Awww, come on," Isabela teased. "What floats your frigate?"

"Why does it matter? And why exactly are you so obsessed with sex? Is it that great for you think about it all the time?"

Isabela raised an eyebrow quizzically at the last question before realization set in and she began laughing gleefully. "You're a virgin! Little sister has someone sailing her canal while poor Misery has never gotten out of dry dock."

"Are you quite done?"

Waving her hand, Isabela replied, "I'll buy you a night at the Blooming Rose. Or if you want you can come by my place and we'll explore each other's hidden depths."

"What a generous offer," Misery answered dryly.

"What can I say? I'm a giver."

"Ummm… I hate to interrupt," Merrill began, "but I don't think those dwarves coming this way look very friendly."

Misery pulled her glare away from the Rivaini to see what Merrill was referring to. A quartet of dwarves wearing the same style of armor as her previous attackers was approaching quickly. She glanced around at their surroundings.

"No magic. Too risky this close to the Gallows. Do your best without it."

"What's the plan?" Isabela asked while snatching the daggers from her back. "Stab first and ask questions later?"

"Try to keep one alive long enough to interrogate."

-==0==-

Merrill glanced around, nervously tightening the grip on her staff. The elven mage was struggling not to panic from Misery throwing her into a situation she was completely unprepared for. She wasn't terribly experienced with fighting in general, and the knowledge that she'd never fought anyone or anything without magic was a tendril of fear snaking its way through her mind.

Ordinarily she stayed out of the fray as much as possible, her eyes flitting across the battlefield from afar to identify the companion most urgently needing support or the threat that seemed most important to deal with, then directing her offensive magic accordingly. But now she was being made to fight in a completely new and different way, and despite her staff having multiple melee options available with its eighteen inch single-edged blade on top and spear-like point at its base, her mind was having difficulty processing.

The clashing of blades startled her, making her realize that she hadn't moved even with the skirmish beginning in front of her. She took a couple of tentative steps forward. Trying to decide what to do, she spared brief glances at the two rogues, who were already in the heat of the battle.

Misery and Isabela both fought with a grace that belied the ferocity, a grace that at times seemed more akin to a well-practiced, choreographed dance than a kill or be killed matter of survival. More than once Merrill had marveled at it. Yet now everything seemed to be moving so fast, so chaotically. Her eyes could hardly track the action, let alone make sense of it. She heard Isabela shout something about another wave and blinked in time to see a flash of steel coming in her direction.

Something _not _new to the mage was being attacked at close range. She braced for impact while raising her staff at an angle out in front of her. The incoming blow glanced off the stout ironwood. She moved with the momentum from the strike, taking a short shuffle step backwards to create space.

Instinctively she let her left hand come off the staff and gestured towards the dwarf while the words for a lightning spell gathered in the back of her throat. She caught herself at the last moment and held them back, but didn't immediately make the connection to do something different.

The dwarf pressed the attack, forcing her to defend once again. Another blow nearly knocked her from her feet and she barely got her staff up to prevent the follow up from taking her head. She stumbled while backpedaling, her eyes wide in fear of being overwhelmed. Just when she thought the dwarf was going to succeed in getting through her defenses, a blade seemed to explode out of his chest. As the dwarf fell, Merrill looked up in surprise to see Misery's hard glare.

"Take a swing at someone!" the rogue barked before turning her attention elsewhere.

Merrill took a deep breath and padded closer to the action. A dwarven assassin attempting to flank Isabela while she was engaged with another foe caught the elf's attention and she impulsively lunged forward and thrust the base of her staff. To her surprise, the tip seemed to slide right through the dwarf's leather armor, piercing his side.

His painful howl got Isabela's attention. She spun and slashed hard, the dagger in her left hand raking across his neck and finishing him off. Just as quickly she spun back the other direction to intercept an incoming blow from the opponent she'd been previously engaged with.

Merrill next noticed that a trio of dwarves had Misery triangulated and were fighting cooperatively to take her down. They were forcing her to spin almost constantly to keep from being run through from behind while at the same time avoiding attacks from the others. The dwarves were being cautious with the dangerous rogue. In part this was because their orders were to take her alive no matter how many of them she killed, so they had to be careful not to fatally wound her while subduing her. But their caution also came from the knowledge that they didn't need to be more aggressive. It would only be a matter of time before she wore down and left a more opportune opening for them to exploit.

Emboldened by her previous success, Merrill sped over and swung her staff hard from behind one of the dwarves engaged with Misery. She didn't have the physical strength to decapitate the thick-necked dwarf, but the inertia of the blade didn't come to a rest until it made it roughly halfway through.

While Isabela remained occupied with the leader of this group, one of the two other remaining dwarves broke off from Misery to attack the elf. He wielded a heavy battleaxe, and Merrill's eyes widened at the sight of it coming at her in a two-handed overhand chop. She dove to the side, tumbling with far less nimbleness than her people were noted for. However, it was enough to avoid the axe blade, which crashed loudly on the stone ground and threw sparks.

The elf hurried to her feet, her eyes locked on the dwarf that was already beginning to hoist his axe in preparation for another swing. So intent was her focus that taking a step backwards and bumping into someone behind her induced a startled panic. Without even looking she pivoted and swung wildly.

The high pitched screech of a female forced her eyes open. It was only then she realized that the person she'd bumped into was Misery, and her blind attack connected solidly with the rogue's right upper arm. The attack cut deep and disarmed the rogue on that side in the process. Misery clutched the wounded limb to her side as she turned, and Merrill briefly caught the murderous glint in the other girl's eyes, though she wouldn't realize it until reflecting on it later.

The elven mage recoiled in fear as Misery leapt towards her while drawing back the blade in her left hand. She instinctively closed her eyes even while meekly raising her staff in defense. She felt the hard impact of blunted metal on her own arm, the momentum sending her reeling sideways and on to the ground. Another loud crash of metal colliding with stone, this time right next to her, made her scream.

Merrill turned her head enough to see the dwarven battleaxe start to rise once again from the ground before falling in a clatter. Her eyes flicked upwards to see Misery pull her dagger from the throat of the dwarf who had been wielding the dropped axe.

Isabela, having finally finished off the leader, intercepted the lone remaining dwarf before he could take advantage of the other two women's distraction. She deflected away a chop from the man's sword with her left dagger and then swung her right in a punch that resulted in the pommel catching him in the chin and staggering him.

The Rivaini then stepped forward and kicked him in the stomach to double him over before drilling him in the side of the head with her elbow to knock him to the ground. A follow up kick disarmed the dwarf, and then she put her boot firmly on his chest while jabbing the tip of a dagger against his throat with enough pressure to draw blood and indicate she was serious, but not enough to do any real damage.

"I suggest you be very still now," she warned.

Seeing that her fellow rogue had the last dwarf under control, Misery kneeled down and fumbled for an elfroot potion from her pack, cursing when trying to open the flask one-handed she dropped it and lost a quarter of the contents. She quickly chugged what was left, welcoming the partial respite from her injury. What the potion didn't take care of she did her best to mentally block out in order to deal with the more pressing concern.

"Why are you after me?" Misery demanded while taking up an aggressive stance towering over the dwarf. She was trembling more out of rage than pain.

In contrast, the dwarf's expression appeared almost blank and Misery briefly wondered if he even understood the question. He finally answered, "It-it's the blood. Blood for blood is what we were told! It began with Malcolm Hawke, but he is dead. But you are also Hawke!"

Misery scowled at the confirmation of what her mother had said a few days earlier, that this was really about her father. "Wait, how did you find out my father was dead?"

"Carta has many eyes and ears. Someone tells Boss of two Hawkes in Kirkwall, Boss sends us to bring one back. Doesn't matter which one."

"Carta?" Misery asked in surprise. "Were you not sent by the Grey Wardens?"

"Sent by Carta boss… Rhatigan… not Grey Warden."

"What does the Carta want with our blood?"

"You don't understand! Master _needs_ the blood to walk in the sun once more! We must take it!"

Isabela whistled. "I think his deck is missing more than a few cards."

Misery nodded grimly. "And it sounds like I'm going to have to deal with this 'master' to put an end to this." She knelt down and grabbed the dwarf by the beard, using it to yank his head towards her. "Where can I find your master?"

The dwarf laughed. It was a maniacal kind of laughter mixed of giddiness and disbelief. "Yes, yes, you go to Corypheus! Master is at tower in Vimmark wasteland! I will take you to him!"

Misery took her dagger and plunged it into his throat. "I think not," she answered while moving to loot the corpse.

A few minutes later, she sighed deeply. "Hmm… none of them had a map to the secret hideout on them. That isn't very convenient."

Isabela shook her head. "Too bad you killed the last one before finding that out. Now what?"

Ignoring the Rivaini's first remark, she answered, "Now… Merrill casts a healing spell on the arm she tried to relieve me of." She glared in the direction of the elf, who was still sitting on the ground with her head bowed. "It should be safe enough with no one else around here."

Merrill lifted her gaze at the sound of her name. "I am s-sorry… I can't."

"Why not?"

"I-I do not know any healing magic. I thought you already knew that."

Misery scowled. Off the top of her head she couldn't remember it ever coming up before, but she also couldn't remember having actually seen Merrill heal anyone either. "How can you possibly not know even a basic heal spell?" she asked incredulously. "That's almost as bad as Anders not being able to cast a simple ball of light."

Merrill didn't reply. Instead her eyes closed and her head bowed once more. A few moments later it became apparent that she was losing the battle not to cry.

"Lay off her," Isabela said. "I didn't see what happened, but obviously she wouldn't have hit you on purpose." As an afterthought she added, "No matter how tempting you make it at times."

"I-I am s-so sorry…" Merrill whispered hoarsely. "I did not mean to h-hurt you. I w-was trying to help, but I have never fought without my magic before." She stood up. "I have a poultice if that will help."

Misery sighed. She had taken it for granted that the Dalish elf would have had at least some training with traditional weapons regardless of being a wielder of magic. Now she realized she'd been wrong to assume that, just as she'd been wrong to assume that Merrill could cast healing magic simply by virtue of being a mage. The thought that the Dalish certainly weren't as practical as she'd given them credit for came to mind, but she pushed the thought away. Finally she nodded at the elf.

"A poultice would be helpful. Come on, let's go somewhere a little less exposed first. I'd hate to take my cuirass off only to get attacked again while you're working on my arm."

Merrill nodded numbly and followed the rogue. After a roughly ten minute walk they arrived at a Hightown tavern. The barkeep glared in open disapproval of the two bloodied women with an elf in tow, but held his tongue when the dark skinned one sat down at the bar and ordered one of the more expensive drinks on the menu, then started chatting him up while the other two headed towards the washroom in the back.

-==0==-

Misery didn't resist the urge to scowl as she examined her armor while Merrill tended to her arm. The mage's blade had torn through the pauldron, leaving it completely compromised and in need of repair work that was beyond her own skills. So she was either going to have to drop it off at a smith and wear her old armor in the meantime, or acquire another set.

For Merrill's part, she felt even worse after seeing the rogue's arm. There was a lot of blood to clean up, and in the process of doing so it became apparent that the cut had been deep. She was thankful the bone hadn't broken and that the healing potion Misery drank earlier reduced some of the trauma. Merrill swallowed the lump that formed in her throat at the thought that her blade hitting the area reinforced by the pauldron had been the best case outcome. If she'd hit the girl much lower on the arm she'd have almost assuredly taken the arm completely off. Much higher and she'd have taken more than enough of her head to kill her.

Once she finished with Misery's arm, she felt her anxiety rise even further at the uncomfortable silence. She tried to make herself look up and make eye contact with Misery, but couldn't bring herself to. Finally in a quiet, timid tone, she said, "I will un-understand if you want… want me to leave."

Misery smirked. "Nah, you're useful. You have kept my mother so engaged in conversation the last few nights that she's left me alone."

"Oh… o-okay… Ma serannas."

"Sarcasm, Merrill." Misery sighed. "Look, I understand you were in a tough situation, though I didn't know at the time you had no experience fighting without magic. I doubt this will be the last skirmish we get into around town and there's too much risk of being spotted using magic, so you're going to need to do what Bethany did and put in a lot of time learning to fight conventionally. She won't have a problem helping you with that. And since Aveline helped her, she might be willing to help you too."

Misery paused for a moment before continuing, "Oh, and… I'll admit that my knowledge of magic is mostly from having watching Bethany learn from our father, but I want you to work with her to learn healing magic if possible. And maybe you can teach Bethany that spell where you entangle things in poison vines. She's mentioned more than once being impressed with it."

Merrill nodded in understanding. "I will try, I promise."

While the rogue put her cuirass back on, Merrill fell into thought. She was so relieved that she wanted to hug Mireille – no, _Misery_. The girl had been visibly annoyed when her mother continually addressed her by her given name in front of the elf, and Misery had made a point of informing Merrill later when they were alone that she needed to forget ever hearing that name. Merrill didn't understand, she thought Mireille was a beautiful name and kind of liked it even more that it sounded so close to her own name. But what she did understand was the hostile expression on Misery's face that showed she was serious about it.

Sometimes Hawke's aggressiveness scared her, but she felt drawn to her anyway. Perhaps that was born of desperation for companionship, though she didn't think so. Misery generally treated her well – better than she treated most people and certainly better than Merrill had been treated by her own people during her last year with them. But it was more than that.

Merrill had never liked being coddled like a child, no matter how well meaning it might be. Despite her position as First to Keeper Marethari, there were far too many times when she felt mother hen'd by the keeper and other older elves. Even her peers were often quick to offer unsolicited advice. Sometimes it seemed like everyone had an opinion on what she should be doing and how she should be doing it.

And though she didn't voice her thoughts, she hated it when her new companions coddled her as if she couldn't take care of herself, or even worse, equated her naivety and inexperience living in the city among humans with stupidity. That Misery never did either to her, or at least not to her face if she did at all, made Merrill all the more appreciative of her. As today had shown, if anything Misery went too far the other direction in assuming Merrill was capable of doing something until told otherwise. And so she silently resolved once again to pay back Misery's faith in her.

-==0==-

Bethany sighed deeply while continuing to gaze at the fire. _Another_ argument between Anders and Fenris had just concluded with the mage angrily stomping off. Fenris, after glaring intently at him until he disappeared into the brush, moved a short distance away and currently stood with his back to the camp, staring out at the moonlit horizon. He glanced back only briefly to ensure the others were still within sight.

Varric got up and went over to sit down next to the female mage. "Think we'll make it back to Kirkwall before those two kill each other?" he asked.

Despite the light amusement in his tone, there was a deeper point to his question. The trip to the Dalish had been largely uneventful and even dropping Feynriel off with Marethari had gone surprisingly well as far as he was concerned. But now a couple of days into the return trip and a little over a week total since they'd left Kirkwall, the tension between Fenris and Anders was reaching a slow boil.

Bethany's shoulders slumped slightly, but she didn't look over at the dwarf. "Does it make me a bad person if I said I'm not sure I care right now?"

Varric chuckled. "Makes you honest if nothing else." He fell silent for a minute before asking, "Can I offer a bit of advice?"

When she simply nodded in reply, he continued, "This is a time for you to be more like your sister." That statement prompted a quizzical glance from the mage.

"What I mean is," he explained, "you know she wouldn't put up with this shit. She'd curse them both out and make them behave. At least while we're on a job anyway. She wouldn't care what they did on their own back in the city. Anyway, you're running the show here, so step up and put an end to their bickering before it turns violent."

Bethany nodded slowly. She glanced over at Fenris and then back to Varric. "Do you think Fenris will listen to me? He wears his hatred of mages on his sleeve and I'm not sure anything I say will sink in."

"See, that's the thing. Both of them can keep their opinions. All you have to do is make it clear you're not putting up with the arguing from either of them. I expect he'll follow your lead as long as you treat him fairly."

He didn't need to elaborate for her to understand the implication – don't show favoritism by siding with Anders. Set aside her opinions of them personally and of their beliefs, and focus only on the issue at hand.

"I… I understand," she said quietly and began to stand.

"Don't look so defeated, Sunshine," Varric replied, grinning at her. "Besides, I think you underestimate Fenris."

"What do you mean?"

"Observe him sometime. He barely lets you out of his sight. Even standing over there doing his quiet brooding thing he keeps looking back over his shoulder from time to time. You can say it's because you're a mage and he's keeping his eye on you, but he doesn't do that to Blondie or Daisy. As far as mages go, I think maybe he hates you less than he hates others. Or as the Arishok might say, he has a growing lack of distrust for you."

Bethany shook her head, but a slight smile formed anyway. "I might faint if he ever admitted that to my face. I doubt he's changed his mind about my place being in the Gallows under the Chantry's control."

"Keep doing what you've been doing. You never know."

-==0==-

After speaking with Fenris, a discussion that went well all things considered, Bethany went to find Anders. Despite Varric's assurance that he'd come running if she yelled for help, she still didn't feel particularly comfortable going off on her own after dark in the unfamiliar area. The mage didn't hesitate to conjure a ball of light in her hand to illuminate the path, and was relieved when she'd only gone a short distance before seeing Anders sitting on the trunk of a fallen oak. And at the same time she felt a slight trepidation, as these days it seemed it was becoming harder to anticipate how he would react.

Anders' head jerked up at the sound of crunching leaves. He'd been lost in thought, stewing, and the sudden noise startled him. Seeing who was coming, he cracked a smile. Things between the two of them had improved greatly on the trip and their relationship was almost back to what it was before he'd lied to her a couple of weeks earlier. He was glad she came alone.

He hopped off the log and quickly closed the gap between them, nearly sweeping her up off her feet in an embrace before kissing her passionately.

"You're in an awfully good mood for having had another fight with Fenris," Bethany remarked with a grin after breaking the kiss.

Anders laughed. "You're here and he's not, that's enough for me."

"Are you alright? The… intensity of your arguments has gone up the last few days."

"I can't imagine what your sister was thinking sending him to help a future mage with two other mages present. Or why he agreed for that matter. It's obvious he won't be happy until we're all killed or made tranquil."

"I'm the one that asked him along actually. Regardless of his personal feelings, he is a big help. And at least to this point he hasn't broken his promise to my sister about not saying hateful things to me."

Anders frowned. "If you just wanted a big sword along, why not ask Aveline? She's at least slightly less annoying."

"Aveline couldn't make the trip. Besides that, I still think the more Fenris is around us, the more likely it will be that he realizes there are good mages in this world."

"You're being naïve, Beth. I don't trust him any more than he trusts us. What's to say he won't conveniently let us fall on a sword if the opportunity presents itself?"

Bethany sighed. "He's had opportunities to do just that and hasn't taken them. And didn't I tell you about how much he helped us with the Arishok? He could have kept his mouth shut and let us walk into a very bad situation with what my sister was planning to do. Yet he not only talked her out of it, he went with us and did much of the speaking to the Arishok. Instead of us being possibly faced with the Qunari wanting to kill us, in the end the Arishok seemed to actually have a tiny bit of respect for us."

"Yes, well, you'll have to forgive me if I don't want to hear any more about how wonderful Fenris is." He pulled away from Bethany, scowling slightly.

"I'm not saying he's _wonderful_, I'm simply pointing out that regardless of his opinion of mages, he has demonstrated a willingness to help us and has had opportunity to betray us and hasn't. I consider him reliable."

"Whatever… can we please talk about something else?"

Bethany chewed her bottom lip as she briefly considered whether or not to drop the subject for later in light of Anders' rapidly souring mood. It didn't take long, however, to decide that doing so wouldn't be fair to Fenris since she'd already gotten his cooperation not to fight with Anders.

"One more thing first. You two want to pick at each other on your own time, fine. But no more fighting with him when we're out somewhere on a job. You know how he is, so please stop baiting him into arguments."

"Why are you taking his side?" he asked incredulously.

"I am not taking sides! I already spoke to Fenris and told him to leave you alone too."

"Do you take sides in _anything_?" he demanded.

Bethany folded her arms across her chest. "We're not talking about the same thing anymore." It was a statement, not a question.

"Sometimes there is right and there is wrong and you must choose!"

"And sometimes what is 'right' is a matter of perspective and you need to be able to see beyond your own nose to realize that!"

Anders took an aggressive step forward. "Your father would be appalled to see you pissing on the ideals he stood for. He risked his life for you, he _died _protecting you. But I guess you don't have to bother worrying about anyone but yourself when you still have your sister to sacrifice _herself_ for your freedom."

Bethany couldn't steel herself quickly enough to dam the tide of anguish rising within her. She felt the hot tears clashing with her cold skin as they rolled down her cheeks. That Anders had taken the most private feelings she'd previously shared with him – her guilt over how much her family had given up for her – and then turned around and cruelly used them against her left her feeling violated, betrayed. She struggled to find anything to say in response.

Anders realized he'd gone too far and tried to rein in his anger. But it didn't matter, it was too late. He'd left a scar that no amount of apologizing would make go away.

"Look…" he said softly, "I-I… I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I was angry and my mouth got ahead of my brain." He forced a slight smile and tried to move forward to embrace her.

Bethany pushed him away. "Don't touch me," she said hoarsely.

"Okay… ummm… I s-suppose if we're done here we should go back before the others come looking for us."

"Yes, _done_ is absolutely what we are," she growled in reply. "And I _don't_ mean just with this conversation. Get away from me."

Anders sighed, but nodded in resignation. "For what it's worth to you, I really am sorry." He then walked slowly back to camp.

Bethany waited for several minutes before following, using the time to better compose herself before going back. Once she did, she went straight to her sleep pallet, dragging it over to the opposite side of the campfire from Anders. Ignoring the questioning expression coming from Varric, she lay down and closed her eyes until she eventually fell asleep, grateful that no one tried to speak with her any further that night.

-==0==-

A few days had passed since Misery's injury at the hands of Merrill. The pair spent the previous day doing errands around town, namely acquiring Anders' supplies and having a replacement set of leather armor for Misery fitted. Fortunately for the rogue, the fitting cost was negligible and the armor itself was given to her by Isabela, who hadn't yet finished offloading all of the gear in the warehouse she'd commandeered a couple months earlier on the job to retrieve her friend Martin's stolen cargo.

With that stuff out of the way, this morning the trio had made their way outside the city gates and the short distance to where they'd been told the templar recruit Wilmod was temporarily camping out. As they rounded a bend in the rocky path, two men came into view. Though she'd never spoken to him, one of them Misery recognized as the templar Knight-Captain Cullen. She could only assume the pale looking younger man he was shaking down was Wilmod. An angry shout from Cullen moments later confirmed the identity.

Cullen growled and kneed the younger man in the stomach, knocking him to his knees. He then drew his sword and pointed it threateningly at Wilmod's neck. "I will know where you were going! And I will know _now_!"

Misery shook her head. "And here I thought templars only abused mages."

Cullen's head snapped in the direction of the unexpected intrusion. "This is templar business, stranger," he warned. "I suggest you leave."

Merrill cleared her throat nervously. "Perhaps we shouldn't provoke him?"

Misery shrugged. "Will you be done beating him up soon? Keran's sister is looking for him and it was suggested that we ask Wilmod if he'd seen him."

Cullen started to stand when Wilmod began laughing maniacally. "You have struck me for the last time, you pathetic human!" the younger man shouted in a completely different voice than he was speaking in previously. Then he began to contort unnaturally, growling gutturally while transforming into a grotesque abomination.

"Maker preserve us!" Cullen said. It was the type of automatic, conditioned response that came from years and years of ritualized prayer. So much so that he didn't even realize he blurted it out.

Isabela's eyes widened. "The man did say this was templar business," she pointed out. "So there's no reason to stick around and get involved, right?"

"Yeah, I say we take him up on his suggestion that we leave," Misery answered while taking a few steps backwards. She nodded at the knight-captain. "Have fun!"

"Wait!" Cullen shouted. "I need your help!"

"Do you hear something? I don't hear anything," Isabela said, continuing to backpedal away from the scene.

Merrill frowned. She was torn. On the one hand, this was a templar who under normal circumstances would attempt to enslave her. But on the other hand, this was a man and she didn't feel good about leaving him to his probable death. Her decision was made, however, when the abomination summoned a pair of rage demons alongside it. She gripped her staff and strode forward.

"Merrill!" Misery barked. When the elf only moved more swiftly towards the demons already threatening to overwhelm the knight-captain, Misery swore loudly in frustration and snatched the bow from her back. "Come on!" she groused at Isabela. "Before she gets herself killed."

-==0==-

In the aftermath of the battle, Misery glowered at Merrill sitting on the ground. Not only had the elf gotten them involved in a battle that she frankly agreed with Isabela on getting away from, but she also put herself into a position where in order to save herself she cast a spell to ensnare a rage demon and the abomination of Wilmod in place.

"I knew it!" Cullen growled. "I _knew _he was involved in something sinister!"

"What was that thing?" Isabela asked. "I thought only mages were supposed to be able to be demon possessed?"

Cullen sighed. "True, normally we only worry about mages falling victim to possession. But there are powerful blood mages that can summon demons into unwilling hosts. I just… had not thought one of our own could be susceptible."

He made eye contact with each of the women before continuing, "I am Knight-Captain Cullen. Thank you for your assistance. I would not have survived without it."

Misery stalked over and poked a finger against his chestplate. "Just how thankful are you, Knight-Captain?"

"What do you mean?"

"I am no fool! I know you saw what she did," she answered, gesturing towards Merrill. "What do you intend to do about it?"

Cullen's eyes narrowed briefly in anger before he relented and blew out a long breath. "She saved my life. For that I will forget what I saw. You have my word."

He didn't add that technically the Dalish were outside the jurisdiction of the Chantry anyway, though that was a distinction the more zealous of the Order were willing to blur if it meant capturing a mage.

"I will take you at your word then," Misery replied. "Don't make me regret doing so, because if you do I _will _make you regret it."

Cullen waved his hand in annoyance. "Keep your friend out of trouble in the city and we will have no problems. Now, earlier you mentioned looking for Keran?"

"Yes, his sister hasn't heard from him in awhile and was worried enough to hire us to investigate."

"I am also investigating the disappearance of some of our recruits. Wilmod was the first to return. Before disappearing, Wilmod and Keran were last seen together at the Blooming Rose. I had no luck, however, interrogating the… uhhh… young ladies that work there. I doubt they know anything of magic or demons, not that any of them would say much. I believe they fear I would shut the place down for serving our recruits."

Isabela rolled her eyes. "First off, if you tried to 'interrogate', that was your mistake right there. That's not how information is traded at the Rose. Second, you'll never get anywhere if you don't know who to talk to."

Cullen took in the Rivaini's appearance and began to rub his scruffy chin thoughtfully. "Perhaps you are correct. Tell you what, if you can find out what happened to Wilmod and Keran, the Order would owe you a debt. And I would personally see that you are rewarded for it."

Misery nodded. "We'll check into it. If we find anything of interest we'll let you know."

After Cullen walked off, Misery resumed silently glaring at Merrill, causing the mage to shift uncomfortable under the heavy gaze.

"I-I am sorry for causing you trouble… again," Merrill finally said, still refusing to look up and make eye contact.

Isabela shook her head. "Kitten, while I can appreciate your taste in a man in uniform, pursuing a templar is risky even by my standards. Though he _is _pretty cute."

"Wh-what? No… I- that wasn't why I helped. I just… couldn't leave him to die."

It was Misery's turn to shake her head. "You remind me too much of Bethany sometimes."

"Why's that?" Isabela asked playfully, "Because she's going to be getting some and you're still in dry dock?"

"Yes, that's _exactly_ why," Misery answered before sighing in exasperation. "Let's go. Sounds like we have another stop to make."

Isabela began giggling. "I can't wait to tell the others I took Misery on her first visit to the Blooming Rose. Their reactions are going to be priceless."

"There goes my spotless reputation…" Misery replied, her tone practically dripping with sarcasm.

It only dawned on her much later how clever Isabela was in completely redirecting her from her fury at Merrill, defusing an otherwise tense situation before it could blow up.

-==0==-

"Uncle Gamlen! Of all surprises, imagine seeing you here!" Misery exclaimed in mock astonishment as she, Isabela, and Merrill walked past the bar in the main hall of the Blooming Rose.

Isabela gasped. "_Uncle_? Wait, you're actually related to that… that _thing_?"

"Unfortunately..."

Gamlen scowled. "Leave me alone. I stay out of your business, so stay out of mine."

Isabela shook her head. "You _have_ to talk to him, Misery. He's often… _inappropriate_."

Misery laughed knowingly. "I'm almost scared to ask what _you_ think is inappropriate."

"He's just… rather repulsive, actually. Extremely so. And he's been trying to bed me for a year and won't take no for an answer. He's persistent… kind of like the clap."

"You screw everyone else!" Gamlen protested. "Why not me?"

Isabela shuddered. "_Please_ talk to him," she reiterated.

"Pfft- trust me, he's beyond reason," Misery answered, waving her hand and walking away from the two of them. She wasn't feeling spiteful enough at the moment to embarrass Gamlen further by pointing out he would screw his nieces if they'd let him. Merrill followed and Isabela quickly caught up.

Misery let the more knowledgeable Rivaini handle the information gathering here, and after talking to the bookkeeper, a woman named Viveka, they were directed upstairs to the private room of Idunna, who was one of the courtesans. Misery looked at Isabela in surprise when she simply opened the door to Idunna's room and entered, but followed her in anyway.

"Idunna?" Isabela asked. A girl with long, dark red hair wearing a purple on purple gown turned around. "Ooh, you're cute," Isabela added. "I've clearly been missing out."

Idunna smiled flirtatiously at the dark-skinned girl, causing Misery to roll her eyes. "Focus, Isabela, focus. Idunna, do you remember entertaining a couple of templar recruits, Wilmod and Keran? We're looking for them."

Idunna gave a bored shrug. "The names don't sound familiar."

"I imagine you get enough _traffic _that it's hard to keep up with all of your clients' names, but these were regulars. So I suggest you drop the act and tell us what you know."

Idunna chuckled. She glanced over at Isabela and with a smirk asked, "She likes it rough, doesn't she?" Without waiting for a reply, the courtesan sauntered over to the bed and leaned back seductively on it while patting the mattress for one of the girls to join her.

"Questions are boring, don't you think?" she continued. "Why don't you come over here and we'll have some _real_ fun?"

"Mmm…" Isabela mumbled. "Are you certain we can't postpone the questioning, Hawke?"

Merrill nodded numbly in agreement. "Maybe… maybe you should be nicer to her."

Idunna chuckled again. "You should listen to your friends."

"What in the Void is wrong with you two?" Misery demanded. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion at what appeared to be almost a hypnotic gaze on the other two women's faces.

Merrill shook her head vigorously as if she was trying to clear it of something. "I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me!" she exclaimed.

Isabela sighed at Misery. "You really can be quite a bore. You know that, right?" Her words came out sluggishly, as if she was drugged.

Misery glared back at Idunna. She didn't know what was going on, but she didn't like it. Drawing a knife, she exclaimed, "Tell me what I want to know right now!"

"No need to be so cross. I'm just trying to make a living. Now, who told you about little ol' me?"

Misery started forward aggressively, only to falter when Idunna looked up into her eyes. The gleam in the girl's gray eyes caught her attention and all she could do was focus in on them. Before she realized it, the words were spilling out of her mouth revealing that Viveka had given them the information.

Idunna scowled, and Misery was barely aware of the girl monologuing about paying Viveka back. Her mind was in a haze, and when Idunna ordered her to bring her blade to her throat she was unable to break the compulsion. Her mind screamed that it was wrong, but her arm moved against her will.

"M-merrill…" she choked out. "H-help…"

The elven mage took a deep breath and focused her willpower, cutting off the thread of control still pulling on her own mind. She then redirected her mental focus and pushed back hard. "This ends… now!"

With that there was a flash of light, and Misery and Isabela regained control over their minds as well. In the blink of an eye Misery's blade was at Idunna's throat instead of her own.

"Spare me, Messere!" Idunna pleaded.

"What _was_ that?" Misery demanded.

"Blood and desire, in equal measure. A talent I learned… elsewhere. Please don't kill me, I will tell you what you want to know."

At the rogue's silent, hostile prompt to continue, Idunna quickly spilled all of the details about a female blood mage named Tarohne leading a group of blood mages she belonged to. The group hid out at a secret location they called the Sanctuary in Darktown. Tarohne had put her to work at the Rose for the purpose of enchanting templar recruits and sending them to her. From there she would force demons into them before returning them to the Templar Order. Her plan was to sow chaos from within the Order this way.

As soon as they had all of the information they needed, Misery slit Idunna's throat. As far as she was concerned, if the City Guard came to her about the killing, investigating on behalf of the templars more than gave her the right to kill this blood mage that would have killed her if not for Merrill's timely intervention.

"Next stop, the Sanctuary," Isabela said grimly. "Some blood mage bitch is going to pay for this."

Merrill nodded vehemently. "Yes, I want answers."

"No," Misery replied, shaking her head. "We're giving the information to Cullen, getting paid, and getting out of this." When Merrill looked like she wanted to protest, Misery got in her face, using her height advantage to force the shorter elf to crane her neck to meet the point blank glare.

"Look at what this one blood mage did to the three of us. And she obviously was just a low level grunt in this group if her role was to work as a whore. It is insane to even consider walking into a nest of blood mages who are likely even more powerful. I don't know that my anti-magic would even be effective against them, and I won't have you using blood magic to combat them. Are we clear?"

Merrill nodded tentatively. "Y-you are right. I am sorry for questioning you."

Misery sighed lightly in relief that the elf was backing down. She then surprised the other girl by reaching out and putting her arm around her neck and pulling her into a very brief embrace. "Thank you for saving my life," Misery whispered and then quickly let Merrill go and moved away before Merrill could get past her astonishment at the action and reply.

"Let's go report our findings to Cullen," Misery added while moving swiftly towards the door.


	22. Catching Up

_AN: Mainly a housekeeping/transitional/filler chapter here before we start the next quest. _

* * *

><p>Misery's eyes narrowed as she focused intently on the target. She took and released a slow breath through her nose while attempting to calm her mind and not let thoughts such as form and technique distract her concentration. The natural lefty drew her arm back and fired. The knife tumbled end over end, this time without the side-to-side wobble of her previous efforts. Her eyes grew wide in excitement when it slammed into the straw filled canvas sparring dummy and stuck.<p>

"Yes!" she exclaimed, beaming in pride at the accomplishment.

Merrill clapped and cheered in approval, while Isabela laughed at the almost childlike enthusiasm coming from the girl whose demeanor usually ranged from reserved to taciturn.

"So that's all there is to it?" Misery asked. "I just need to practice until my form is correct without having to concentrate on it?"

"There is a bit more than that," Isabela replied, walking over and scuffing a line in the dirt with the toe of her boot. The mark was a half dozen feet in front of where Misery had been throwing from. "Try again from here."

Misery stepped up to the line and carefully repeated the motions Isabela had taught her. She wasn't worried about how methodical and mechanical her movement was, knowing that once she had the technique down she would practice over and over until it was committed to muscle memory.

The knife released cleanly from her hand, and just as the previous throw it turned in a tight vertical spin. Unlike the previous attempt, this time the knife connected with the sparring dummy hilt first and rebounded away.

Isabela chuckled knowingly at the expression of uncertainty on her fellow rogue's face. Handing her another knife, she said, "This time hold it _carefully_ by the blade instead of by the hilt."

Misery's expression turned to one of inquisitiveness, but she simply nodded and did what she was told. This time her effort was rewarded with a solid stick in the target. She smiled, though this time her enthusiasm was tempered by the slight confusion over the new variable introduced.

"Think about what changed," Isabela said, knowing what was going through the girl's mind. Once upon a time she'd been in her place.

"Well… how I held the knife changed. But I held it by the hilt on the throw before that and it stuck."

Isabela merely nodded. She wanted Misery to figure it out for herself.

After several moments of deliberation the proverbial light came on. "Oh! And the distance changed too." She glanced back at her previous spot and then down to her feet, then frowned. "So, the obvious question is, how do I know when to use which grip?"

The Rivaini laughed. "Practice, of course! Knife throwing is all about distance and revolutions. Assuming your technique is consistent, which grip to use depends entirely on how far from the target you are. And that's unique to you. I can tell from watching that you throw harder than I do, so for you the blade will travel a greater distance each revolution than it does for me."

Misery nodded in understanding. "Practice is something I have no problem with. Thank you."

"Interesting. You're much more teachable than I expected. That's… _promising_."

"Something my father drilled into my head was not wasting other people's time. He had little patience for us not taking our lessons seriously, whether they were being taught by him or someone else."

"Ahhh… Well, maybe if you get good enough you won't even have to lug that bow around with you anymore."

Misery shook her head in disagreement. "Being able to throw blades will be a nice complement to my skills, but all things being equal a bow is much more effective and has a much greater range. You should carry one yourself."

Isabela wrinkled her nose as if in disgust. "Uhhh… no."

"Do you just not know how to use one? I could give you some lessons."

"I'll pass."

"What's with the aversion to bows?" Misery asked.

"It involves a bad experience with a one-armed man named Molly. Let's leave it at that."

That was fine by Misery, who despite the ridiculousness of Isabela's reply didn't care enough to press her any further on it. She gave a shrug to say "whatever" in response.

Merrill spoke up. "Would you teach me? To use a bow I mean."

Misery raised an eyebrow curiously. "I… I suppose. But why?"

"You said it yourself that I need to be better prepared to fight without magic. My people have a long history of being the best archers, so I believe I would take to it rather naturally."

In addition to the intense pride that caused her to assume she'd be good at archery simply by virtue of her Dalish heritage, Merrill also had a tendency to view Misery through rose-colored glasses. She wasn't blind to the rogue's faults, but Merrill perceived her as seemingly always confident, powerful, and in control of whatever situation she was in. The idea of being more like her, especially in battle, held great appeal for the elven mage.

Misery didn't really disagree with Merrill's reasoning. Then again, she held the Dalish in high regard with respect to their skills and capabilities. Her perspective was shaped in large part by exaggerated stories and legends she'd heard when she was younger, and that hadn't diminished after the experience on Sundermount. Her high opinion of their capabilities caused her to give more benefit of the doubt to the Dalish in general and Merrill specifically than she would almost anyone else. Still, Misery's practicality left her with doubt.

"What about your staff?" she asked the mage. "It would be very difficult to carry both a staff and a bow at the same time. Switching between the two in battle would be nearly impossible."

Merrill frowned, not having considered that. "I could still cast spells without a staff. I would only lose the ability to channel my magic into bolts of energy."

"And defense," Isabela stated. "You use your staff to parry close range attacks. Carrying only a bow would leave you exposed."

"But Misery defends with her bow!" Merrill protested.

Misery had a thought. "Master Ilen made that staff of yours to look like a conventional weapon. Is there any reason why he couldn't also make an ironbark bow that could serve as a focus for magic? I mean, at its heart the staff is just a chunk of wood, so I don't see why a bow made from the same wood couldn't be prepared or enchanted or whatever in a similar way."

Merrill contemplated this for a few moments before shrugging. "I do not know. My people's lore contains no mention of such a thing. I suppose I would… have to ask Master Ilen."

"Tch… too bad you didn't think of this before the others left with the kid," Isabela said. "Though I still say it's a crazy idea. You should stick with learning to use your staff as a melee weapon."

Merrill frowned again when she noticed the distant expression on Misery's face. She worried that she agreed with Isabela. "Misery? I can do this if you will teach me."

The fair-skinned rogue ran her fingers through her hair and sighed. "There's nothing to be done now about the idea not coming up before the others went to the Dalish camp. But I think we should at least hedge our bets. I will teach you archery and you'll also learn to use your staff as a close combat weapon."

Merrill nodded. She understood that Misery's reticent tone came from a lack of desire to visit the Dalish camp in order to speak with Master Ilen. In that regard Merrill agreed completely, and hoped to put it off until a future time when the thought of seeing her clan again didn't bring with it a host of negative emotions. She also hoped that maybe if she was good enough it wouldn't be necessary at all.

"Just be careful, Kitten," Isabela said. "Don't get yourself killed trying to be something you're not."

"Having magic is not all there is to me," the elf countered.

Isabela sighed lightly but didn't say anything further. She recognized stubborn defiance when she saw it. After all, Isabela had built practically her entire adult life off of defying other people's attempts to define and confine her. And for a time after starting out on her own, the desire to prove wrong those who doubted or underestimated her was the motivating force behind many of her actions.

It was only after years of establishing her reputation as the 'Queen of the Eastern Seas' by doing things few believed she was capable of, coupled with the benefit of wisdom and maturity through age and life experience that she mellowed into the confident woman that would rather let others underestimate her and then use it against them. It was far less stressful than going around with a chip on her shoulder challenging every slight, real or perceived.

Misery waved her hand in her typically dismissive manner of indicating it was time for a subject to be dropped. "I brought a few types of trap triggers with me. I'll show you how to work with them without getting yourself maimed in the process." She knelt down and began rummaging in her pack. "I have seen you work locks, you're good enough with your hands that this shouldn't be too difficult."

"Oh, I'm _quite_ good with my hands," Isabela replied suggestively, winking at the girl.

Misery rolled her eyes at the innuendo, realizing she set herself up for it. The thought of simply informing Isabela that she wasn't into women had come to mind on more than one occasion, but at this point she had an almost morbid curiosity as to how long the Rivaini would subtly and not so subtly pursue her before giving up. So instead of reacting to her comment, Misery instead simply shrugged while laying out the components.

"Anyway… let's start with this one here…"

-==0==-

"Huh-mmm?" Misery mumbled groggily, her mind still somewhere between the realms of the waking and sleeping worlds.

"Move over," the other voice reiterated. Her tone was weighed down by fatigue. "You're taking up too much of the bed."

Misery turned her head towards the voice, and as consciousness took hold her eyes snapped open. "Bethany!" she exclaimed. "You're back."

The younger girl smiled. "I'm too tired to make a sarcastic remark about the obviousness of that. My bed is occupied and I don't feel like sleeping on the floor, so you get to share. Now move over already and give me some room."

Misery smirked but scooted closer to the far edge and adjusted the covers. "If you weren't my sister I'd ask what it is this week with women trying to get into bed with me."

As Bethany raised an eyebrow quizzically, another voice interjected. "Oh! Bethany," Merrill said in surprise. "H-here, I will get up. You can have your bed."

"No, stay where you are," Bethany answered while lying down. Before anyone could say anything else she added, "As happy as I am to see you two, I want sleep. So let's save the conversation until morning."

The younger Hawke settled in, sliding under the covers while turning so that her back was pressed up against her sister's back. She sighed in contentment at the warmth permeating her cold, weary body, and felt further relief at her decision to push onwards towards Kirkwall rather than stopping to camp, even though doing so meant they would arrive home in the middle of the night.

The feeling of relief wasn't because she'd thought the others objected to her decision. After all, winter was arriving in the Free Marches, and while winters were fairly mild this far north, the nights nevertheless were uncomfortably cold. So faced with the prospect of another night sleeping outdoors, the decision to trudge ahead past the point of exhaustion in order to sleep in soft, warm beds was met with universal approval.

However, there was more to it than that. Bethany knew her decision had been driven just as much by the selfish desire to be away from Anders for awhile. But the closer they got to Kirkwall and the more they wore down from a lack of rest, the more she worried about their ability to handle a hostile situation if they ran into one. Her relief was palpable when they passed through the city gates.

Despite the initial appearance of meekly accepting her breaking up with him, by mid-day the following day Anders was laying the charm on thick in an attempt to get her back. Eventually he wore her down to the point where she agreed to at least consider giving it another chance. And the longer she thought about it, the more frustrated she became with herself for even agreeing to reconsider.

She accepted the sincerity of his apology and believed he was genuinely remorseful for having hurt her. However, she knew in her heart she could never fully trust him again. It was clear that he had issues with anyone that wasn't one hundred percent in support of his ideals and goals, and it had been made equally clear that applied to her as well. She realized in hindsight that even when things had been going well between them, there were times she felt like she couldn't speak freely or as if she was walking on eggshells around him to avoid provoking a volatile reaction.

So even if he managed to control his outbursts, it wasn't enough. Bethany _needed_ more. She needed someone who would genuinely respect her regardless of differences of opinion. And that included not crossing lines that should never be crossed. That brought her full circle to why she broke off the relationship in the first place. She remained unconvinced that she could trust him not to abuse her trust again.

Bethany felt she owed it to Anders not to string him along, so she went ahead and told him her decision the previous morning. He'd acted more disappointed and hurt than anything else, though she could feel the undercurrent of anger emanating from him as she explained. She told him sincerely that she hoped to remain his friend. Left unspoken, however, was her doubt as to the viability of that.

She hoped he would prove her wrong, but so far it wasn't looking promising. He'd spent the better part of the last two days sulking, snarking, and generally making everyone uncomfortable. She was relieved when they reached the Hanged Man and after Varric told her she wasn't walking home alone, Anders didn't protest Fenris' statement that he would see her home safely since it was on his way anyway. Instead, Anders mumbled that he was just going to get a room at the Hanged Man for the night rather than walking all the way back to his Darktown place.

Now back safely at home with the stress of the journey slowly washing away, fatigue quickly overtook Bethany. She was asleep even before her sister and Merrill could get back to sleep.

-==0==-

Fenris slumped into the chair with a loud sigh, pausing only momentarily before unraveling the foil wrapper to get at the cork standing between him and the sweet nectar of Agreggio contained within the bottle in his hand. He had been home long enough to spot check each and every room for unwelcome _guests_ per his habit, grab the bottle of Agreggio from the wine cellar, and to leave a trail of shed armor, equipment, and clothing on his way to his favorite chair.

"To another day…" he announced to the empty room, raising the bottle in a mock toast before tipping it back.

As he sat, his chin gradually dropped to his chest and his eyes were drawn to the Dalish amulet lying against the bare skin. He brought his free hand up and cupped the amulet, frowning as he raised it for closer inspection. The smooth wood featured a hand carved rune in the surface that gave off an almost imperceptible glow. Running the pad of his thumb over the rune reminded Fenris that the amulet was enchanted.

"_For better health," _Bethany had said when she gave it to him at the Dalish camp.

He'd been flabbergasted. A _mage _giving him something containing _magic_? Was she trying to provoke him? Or merely taunting him, knowing he'd be in a precarious situation with Misery if he retaliated?

No… his thoughts must have been written all over his face, because her gentle smile quickly fell, her eyes grew wide, and her face flushed with embarrassment. While Bethany apologized for the insensitive gift, he intently searched her expression for any hint of malice or deceit. Not finding any left him even less certain what to make of the situation.

"_Why would you give me this?"_ he had demanded after her apology.

"_I-I saw you looking at it earlier… I th-thought it would be a nice way to say… thank you for all of your h-help."_

In truth, his eyes _had _lingered appreciatively on the amulet for a long time while perusing the Dalish craftsman's wares. The design intrigued him, and he might even have succumbed to indulging himself in the purchase if not for the fact it was ruined by magic. He wanted nothing to do with magic, believing it corrupted everything it touched. Discovering the enchantment put an end to any idea of acquiring the amulet.

Fenris took another swig of Agreggio and then let out a sarcastic laugh as he thought back on what happened next. He'd actually felt a pang of guilt at the sight of Bethany's crestfallen expression. Before he knew it, he was accepting the amulet and actually _thanking _her for it. Since when did he care about some mage's feelings?

He had tried to convince himself afterwards that he only caved in and accepted the gift because Anders was clearly bothered by Bethany giving it to _him _of all people. And truthfully the ridiculousness of Anders apparently feeling threatened enough by the mage hating elf to play the jealous boyfriend amused him.

As far as Fenris was concerned, Anders was the epitome of everything wrong with mages. He'd just assume relieve the abomination of his head and save the inevitable trouble of needing to do so later, regardless of what the other companions thought of Anders. Same for the Dalish blood mage for that matter.

However, Fenris had enough self-awareness to know that while he secretly enjoyed watching Anders practically squirm throughout the exchange and then pointedly avoid looking in his direction the rest of the evening, telling himself that was his motivating factor in accepting an amulet soiled by magic was merely a pleasant lie.

The truth was more… complicated.

Fenris had kept a close eye on Bethany ever since that first night with the group, when she declared that she wasn't after power, that all she was after was the same as him – the right to a life of her own. In Fenris' experience, the road to the Void was littered with noble intentions and it was inevitable for a mage to fall. And oh how he'd wanted to see her fall, to rub the truth in her face that there was no such thing as a _good _mage.

Something happened along the way though. By barring him from saying critical things towards Bethany as the price of her, and consequently her companions' ongoing help in staying free of Danarius, Misery put him in a position of having to stop and think about Bethany's words and actions and how to respond to them instead of being able to just pop off dismissively like he did with Anders and Merrill. The unconscious side effect of that forced civility along with closely observing Bethany was gaining more of an understanding of her than he would have otherwise – certainly more than he wanted.

He gradually learned that Bethany was unlike any other mage he'd been around. She didn't blindly defend magic or pretend there wasn't an inherent danger to being a mage. She was principled, and like many mages was sincere in wanting to do the right thing. Yet she was the only mage he'd seen grounded enough not to deny the possibility of falling anyway. She also didn't carry herself with the air of superiority of the Tevinter mages, nor did she spend an inordinate amount of time trying to garner sympathy over the _plight_ of mages everywhere.

As much as Fenris wanted to deny it, the consistency in her behavior both in general and towards him specifically was slowly winning him over. He wouldn't go so far as to say he _trusted _Bethany, however, his cynicism towards her had faded to the point that he even found himself welcoming her healing magic during and after battles.

To say the elf despised magic with all of his being was hardly an understatement, making that last point an especially bitter pill for him to swallow. From the beginning of his time with Hawke he'd grudgingly accepted beneficial magic being cast on him as a matter of practicality, if not necessity. But that didn't mean he liked it. Quite the contrary, the internal conflict he felt at benefitting from something he wished didn't even exist only stoked the fires of self-loathing he already struggled with.

That guilt kept him grounded, kept him honest with himself, or so he thought. As a result, he found it troubling that when it came to Bethany, the negative thoughts and emotions that once screamed in his head as magic coursed over and through him were now a barely perceptible whisper.

Fenris didn't know if it was a side effect of the lyrium brandings scorched into his flesh, but he had a heightened sensitivity to magic. He could feel what he guessed to be an aura within the tendrils of magic. Consequently, when a spell washed over him, he knew which mage companion it originated from. And it provided little comfort that his mind still railed against receiving Anders' magic.

Nor was it any comfort that he felt just as strongly now as he did months ago upon discovering Merrill was a blood mage, when he demanded she never direct _any _magic at him. He doubted he could handle being on the receiving end of a blood mage's magic, beneficial to him or not, without reacting violently. Then again, he'd never seen her cast any spell that wasn't destructive in nature, and was still mystified as to why so many of their companions fell for her sweet, innocent act and seemed content to just ignore her rotten core.

When it came to Bethany, the issue of Merrill was another source of puzzlement. Along the way to retrieve Feynriel from the slavers, Merrill used blood magic in a skirmish against a band of raiders that attacked them out on the Coast. Afterwards, Fenris had laid into the elven blood mage. The Rivaini didn't seem to care enough to get involved beyond eventually telling everyone to shut up after the squabbling lingered on longer than her patience, and the dwarf appeared slightly uncomfortable but unwilling to voice his opinions either way.

Bethany, much to his surprise, sided with _him _instead of her fellow mage. Of course, she was much kinder and far less confrontational than he was, trying to reason with Merrill instead of berating and outright condemning her actions. Still, it was something he'd never seen before. In his experience mages had no use for rules or limits around magic. At least not without an underhanded motivation involved.

Not long after that incident he asked Bethany and Anders if they would learn blood magic if Merrill was willing to teach them. Anders hesitated very briefly before shaking his head, but in that brief moment Fenris read the shadow of doubt on the abomination's face. In his mind he _knew _that despite his denial, if push came to shove Anders would fall to the temptation of the power it promised.

On the other hand, Bethany's negative response had been immediate and emphatic. Fenris told himself that she could have simply been well prepared in expectation that he would eventually ask those types of questions of her, but nevertheless he admitted that it was another test passed.

Fenris sighed deeply, his thoughts returning to the present. In the time spent reflecting he'd managed to drain the entire bottle of Agreggio. He twirled the empty bottle in his hand a few times before whipping it across the room, not even flinching at the loud noise of it colliding with the wall and shattering.

Destroying the bottles when he finished them was his habit anyway, though usually the purpose behind it was nothing more than petty rebelliousness, trashing Danarius' estate simply because he could. It was for the same reason he never bothered cleaning up after tearing through the place with Hawke. This time, however, there was anger behind the throw - anger at the mage who was slowly worming her way past his guards and causing him to question his beliefs, and anger at himself for recognizing it was happening but not being able to stop it.

He slumped back into the chair and it wasn't long before the combination of the Agreggio and general fatigue caught up with him. He closed his eyes, but before sleep took him a thought escaped his lips.

"Maker, if you are out there and can hear this… please do not let her fall…"

Almost immediately his eyes snapped open and he growled in frustration with himself.

"_She is corrupting me…" _

-==0==-

"They are adorable together like that," Merrill commented.

Leandra smiled while nodding in agreement, her eyes never leaving her sleeping daughters. She'd been excited when Merrill, who was also an early riser, told her that Bethany had returned home late the previous night. But now she was getting impatient for her girls to wake up so she could hear about Bethany's travels.

This was the third time she'd come into the room and stood debating on whether or not to rouse them. Seeing the girls in huddled under the blanket together in peaceful slumber took her mind back to more pleasant times.

"It reminds me of when my clan would move," Merrill said a couple of minutes later. "There was never enough space on the aravels, so we slept in shifts packed in shoulder to shoulder. Even as cramped as it was, there was something comforting about it. Well, not that waking up with an elbow in your ribs was comfortable, of course, and sometimes tempers got short from being crowded together, but it was… I do not know…"

"Family…" Leandra answered softly. She glanced over at the elf. "In Ferelden we did not always have the best accommodations either, particularly when something came up and we were forced to pack up and leave town in the middle of the night… _again_. It was common for the five of us to share a single room when traveling, and when we did settle in a new town it sometimes took weeks to get a place of our own. Sometimes those two even having a bed to share was a luxury. All of us slept on the floor or ground more than I care to admit. But as you say, there was also something comforting with us all so close together."

"Did they complain much? We did."

"Ha!" Leandra exclaimed. "They were children, of course they complained. Truth be told, I probably would have more than I did if not for knowing Malcolm needed my support rather than me adding more to the guilt he felt at not being able to provide a more stable life for our family. He and I were always there for each other. He once told me that his own burdens never seemed as daunting when he was carrying mine as well. It was not until after we came to Kirkwall that I truly understood what he meant. Even after he died I still had the children's burdens to divide my attention. However, with Carver gone and these two now taking care of me far more than I take care of them… I have little to distract myself with."

Merrill wasn't sure how to reply, but offered a sympathetic smile that Leandra appreciatively returned.

The former Kirkwall noble's childhood roots were not easily removed, despite the challenges and hardships of her adult life in Ferelden. As such, she was still somewhat surprised at how well she'd taken to the elven girl – one of the heathen Dalish at that. Part of her cynically figured she was so desperate for companionship that even an elf would do.

However, over the last week and a half Leandra had also slowly gained respect for the affable, kind-hearted girl who was nothing like she'd always envisioned the Dalish. And while she didn't fully realize it, Leandra had gone from being wary and borderline disdainful of Merrill to readily enjoying her company and thinking of her as a positive influence in her daughter's lives.

The sounds of conversation in the room finally caused both sleeping girls to begin stirring.

"About time you two woke up," the older woman said. Despite the surface level sarcasm in her tone, there was warmth underlying it. "Go get cleaned up and I will have breakfast ready for you when you are done."

"Mmm… food…" Bethany mumbled while dragging herself to her feet, pulling the covers off of her sister in the process of detangling herself from them. Misery whined and grumbled at the sudden chill but followed suit and got up.

Leandra shook her head slightly while smiling. She glanced at Merrill. "See? Children…"

-==0==-

Throughout the day, Misery and Merrill filled Bethany in on what she'd missed around town and vice versa. They told Bethany about the latest encounter with the Carta dwarves and what they had learned. Also about working with the templars and uncovering the conspiracy with blood mages corrupting the Order from within. The grateful Knight-Captain Cullen paid them five sovereigns when they turned in the information on Tarohne.

Cullen had tried to convince them to help on the raid of the blood mage den, but Misery refused. She had a healthy fear of blood magic and the encounter with Idunna did nothing but reinforce that fear in her mind. Cullen understood, and in the end agreed that blood mages or not, it was the responsibility of the Templar Order and not regular citizens to hunt apostates.

They also told Bethany of a couple of possible jobs they turned down. One was from a man who was looking for his _missing _wife. It sounded innocent enough other than that he was just as creepy as Gamlen and to Misery it was pretty obvious that his wife had run away. She had no interest in helping the guy get her back, especially not when his concern was centered on appearances and what his wife's family would think.

Another job offer came from a Chantry sister they ran into in passing and rescued from a mugging attempt. The woman seemed very shifty afterwards while offering work, and the situation set off so many warning bells in Misery's head that she opted not to bother meeting Sister Petrice at her so-called safehouse. Isabela had agreed, thinking that a Chantry sister even having a Lowtown safehouse just screamed trouble.

Merrill asked how the clan was doing. Left unspoken in the question was if anyone missed her. Bethany noticed the trepidation and sadness in the elf's question, which made her even happier to tell Merrill about Pol. The boy had approached the group while they were in the Dalish camp and asked many questions about Merrill.

He clearly missed her, and admitted that he hated to see her leave but had also felt pressured by the others to be discouraging and cold towards her, because she continued to put the clan at risk while pursuing something the keeper and elders disapproved of.

Merrill was ecstatic to hear that about Pol. She told them how he was a city elf who fled Denerim after being accused of theft. Merrill had spent many hours teaching Pol the Dalish lore, and the two had become close friends. His becoming distant in the weeks before she left the clan had especially hurt. So she was heartened to know he worried about her. It was enough to offset the anger of knowing that being ostracized was an organized conspiracy against her for all intents and purposes.

The latter did nothing to deter Merrill, however. It only made her even more determined to prove them wrong. She dreamed of the day when she restored the Eluvian, how her people would _see_ just how wrong they had been and welcome her back, honoring her for her work. And the Dalish would be one step closer to restoring their former glory.

-==0==-

Misery and Bethany entered the Hanged Man, striding with purpose through the main room and up the stairs. Both were concerned about what was so urgent that Varric sent a runner to Gamlen's house with a note telling them to come see him immediately. It wasn't something he'd ever done before.

"What's going on?" Misery asked without preamble while passing through the door into Varric's suite.

The dwarf ceased his pacing and turned to face the girls. His expression was grim.

"Blondie and I figured it out," he answered, gesturing towards the former Grey Warden standing over various sheets of vellum strewn out on the table.

"Which 'it' are we talking about?" Misery asked. As she moved closer to the table she could tell the pages on lying on it were maps.

"The location of your father's… legacy," Anders replied.

"Legacy?" Bethany asked.

Anders smirked slightly when Bethany brushed up next to him to see what he was looking at. She had been cordial to him the couple of times he'd seen her in the week since they returned from Sundermount, but she'd also made it crystal clear that she wasn't changing her mind on their relationship.

On the one hand, being dumped was unchartered territory for him and he had difficulty processing her simultaneous rejection while wanting to remain friends. On the other hand, in hindsight he was perplexed as to why it bothered him at all when _he _was the one that typically avoided emotional entanglement. It had taken a couple days of being back in Kirkwall away from her, but Justice managed to subtly convince him that she did him a favor. It saved him the trouble of doing it himself when her unwillingness to take a stand inevitably became a liability to them.

"Anders?" Bethany asked when he didn't reply right away.

He shook his head. "Sorry…" Pointing to a spot on one of the maps, he continued, "The Grey Warden maps I have of the Free Marches show the location of an ancient tower here in the Vimmark Wasteland, which matches what we know."

Misery frowned. "Why did you call his 'legacy', and what haven't you told us? I mean, Varric summoning us here and your dour expressions suggest there's more to it than simply figuring out where this Corypheus fellow is."

"If your father's blood was used in a ritual and now a blood relative is specifically needed," Anders began, "well, it doesn't take much thought to understand the implication of that. Obviously we're talking about blood magic here."

Misery scowled but nodded curtly for him to continue. She'd already reached that conclusion herself shortly after her mother told her and Bethany of the deal with the Grey Wardens.

"The only thing I can think of as to why they need more Hawke blood is if they are trying to counteract or undo whatever it was originally used for. That would explain why these dwarves are coming at you so aggressively and not Grey Wardens."

Varric nodded. "The Carta wouldn't be into this shit on its own, but contracting themselves out on a job for someone wouldn't be unheard of." He began to pace again. "It would have to be a client with deep pockets though. Or with power and influence. Or all of the above."

Misery ran her fingers through her hair in annoyance. "Will you two get to the point already?"

Varric stopped and shook his head. "I can't help but feel like we're getting into something much more serious than we thought. This is bad."

"Right…" Bethany began sarcastically, "because insane dwarves trying to harvest our blood obviously wasn't serious enough to begin with."

"Sunshine, that's not what-"

"Anders," Misery said sharply, interrupting the dwarf, "what role would the Grey Wardens have in this? If what you are saying is true, whatever is going on is happening at one of their towers. Do you think they're the benefactor behind the Carta?"

The former Grey Warden frowned, looking down at the map while collecting his thoughts. Finally he looked up and sighed. "I don't know. The Grey Wardens like their secrets, even among themselves."

His expression turned grave as he continued, "Let me preface this by saying I'm speculating based on what I've pieced together. One of the assassins said their master needed your blood to walk in the sun or something like that. So it stands to reason that your father's blood was used to bind or prevent it from happening in the first place."

"I think we've got that part," Misery replied impatiently.

Anders waved his hand. "Stop interrupting me!" he said in irritation. "In Ferelden… the Wardens, we encountered this… thing… a sentient darkspawn emissary – a mage – that called itself the Architect. It wanted to work with the Grey Wardens to end Blights forever. The Warden-Commander had us kill it, but it makes me wonder if the Wardens here in the Free Marches encountered something similar and decided to cooperate, only to have something go horribly wrong."

"Wouldn't they just kill it in that case?" Bethany asked.

"I assume they would have at least tried. Or perhaps they saw value in keeping it alive and opted to bind or imprison it instead, hence the blood magic. Or I could be talking out my arse. That's always a possibility."

Varric shook his head. "Regardless, something needing their blood to 'walk in the sun' sounds ominous."

Misery and Bethany exchange silent looks, something Varric didn't fail to notice. "Ladies?"

"We know the expedition is only a couple of weeks away," Bethany explained, "but we need to take care of this first. Sorry…"

"No need to apologize, Sunshine," Varric answered, sighing in resignation. He didn't disagree at all, but he wasn't looking forward to telling Bartrand that the expedition might not leave on time depending on how this very dangerous sounding quest played out. "We'll go put an end to whatever this thing is that's after you."

Anders scoffed slightly. "Or die trying… this might be more than they can handle."

Misery couldn't be bothered to argue with him. Instead she merely shrugged. "Or die trying…"


	23. False Start

_Misery ripped her dagger out of the chest of the Carta boss, spinning around in anticipation of being attacked from behind. A momentary sense of relief settled in when a quick scan of her surroundings revealed no more enemies. However, that feeling was interrupted by Aveline shouting._

"_Hawke! Get over here! Bethany is down!"_

_The rogue hopped off the platform she was on and swiftly crossed the room. Her heart sank when she saw her sister. The mage's staff lay broken in half on either side of her body, and blood from the deep cut in her chest pooled around her lifeless body._

"_No…" Misery choked out hoarsely. "You can't be… you can't…"_

"_I can't fix this. No one could…" Anders said softly before slowly turning away. "I'm sorry."_

"_This cannot be happening!" Misery screamed in a tone mixed of disbelief, sorrow, and anger. She closed her eyes and rested her forehead on her sister's. "I failed… again… I am so sorry."_

_Misery felt a set of hands on her shoulders pulling her back. She opened her eyes, blinking in surprise to see her brother Carver's face staring lifelessly back at her instead of Bethany's. Before she could vocalize her confusion and turn to see who was shaking her, a voice got her attention._

"_Why did you let this happen?" Leandra demanded. _

"_Mother?" Misery thought, even more confused than before. Why was she here? It made no sense for her mother to be here with them. Did she follow them? She couldn't have._

"_You swore you would protect them!" her mother shouted bitterly. _

"_I-I… I-" Misery stuttered._

"_I told you not to make promises you cannot keep!"_

_Misery tore her eyes away from her mother, bowing her head shamefully. _

"_I'm sorry…" she said, her voice barely a whisper._

"_Look at what your carelessness has wrought!"_

_Misery felt the sting of her mother's words. She glanced over at the body, this time seeing her deceased father. "B-but… I wasn't even there when he was infected by the darkspawn!" she protested._

"_You should have been!" Leandra shot back. "You failed him! Just as you failed your brother and sister. How long will it be before you fail me as well?"_

"_No… that's not true… it- it's not my fault…" She closed her eyes again, trying to will the world to go away. Everything felt so horribly wrong._

"_And you wonder why we named you Misery? You miserable little… don't you dare deny your responsibility! This is all your fault! It's always your fault!"_

"_No…" Misery pleaded, cringing at her mother's hateful accusations. "I didn't mean for any of it to happen… I'm sorry… I-"_

"_You failed me," another voice spoke. The deep, grave tone caused Misery's eyes to snap open in shock. Now standing in place of her mother was her father, wearing a scornful expression of disapproval. _

_She glanced back to the dead body to see it was Bethany once again."F-fath-er," she choked out."I tr-tried…"_

_Misery felt hands on her shoulders shaking her again, and the world began to dim and dissolve before her very eyes. She struggled against the hands, seemingly incapable of batting them away. As the world became darker she heard a faint voice and latched on to it._

"Misery!" a voice hissed, shaking her even harder. "Wake up, dammit!"

Misery gasped, her eyes snapping open to see a stern looking Aveline hovering over her. She immediately sat up, her eyes darting wildly as she took in her surroundings. Seeing Bethany, Merrill, and Anders still asleep around the crackling campfire and Varric beginning to rise from his spot brought her back to reality. She pulled her knees to her chest, leaning forward and resting her forehead on them.

"Tell me the truth," Aveline demanded, "is Flemeth still tormenting you?"

The guard-captain had been rather cool towards Misery on the journey. She'd only accompanied her as a favor to Leandra, who had been dismayed enough about both girls going to the location of the very people trying to capture them to personally ask Aveline to help them. But despite the lingering tension between the women, Aveline still considered Misery a friend and couldn't help but be concerned.

"No…" Misery said quietly. "Just… just a bad dream. A rather intense one at that." She looked up and met her friend's gaze. "My turn for watch?"

Aveline stared back skeptically for a long moment before finally nodding. She let go of Misery's shoulders and stood. "Wake me if something comes up."

Misery nodded. "Go get some sleep."

As she stood and stretched, willing herself to adjust to the cold, she caught sight of Varric glancing up quizzically from the fire he was stoking. She frowned at the sudden urge to talk to him coursing through her. Resisting it, she merely shrugged in his direction, grabbed her bow, and walked off into the darkness.

-==0==-

Misery sighed deeply. After half an hour of arguing with herself, she'd succumbed to going back to camp to see if he was awake. However, it was readily apparent that Varric had gone back to sleep after refreshing the fire. She started to walk off again, only to turn around once more and stride over to where he was sleeping. She knelt down and punched him lightly in the shoulder to get him to stir.

"I already had watch…" he grumbled in protest.

"I know…"

Varric's eyes opened slowly. He immediately noticed the look of uncertainty on his fellow rogue's face. "Everything alright?"

Misery shook her head slightly. "I could use someone to… talk to."

She tensed at his expression of shock, relaxing a bit after he quickly caught himself, nodded, and moved to get up and grab Bianca.

The pair moved away from the camp in silence. Immediately after waking was among the rare times Varric wasn't chatty, so under normal circumstances he wouldn't have minded the silence. However, this was far from normal. In fact, it was uncharted territory, and as such he was somewhat anxious to find out what it was that wouldn't keep until morning.

They made their way a short distance around a cliff facing until they were overlooking the shallow valley standing between them and the Grey Warden tower. In the dark they could make out little more than a silhouette against the backdrop of the sky, but they knew from before nightfall the previous evening that the tower was there.

The group camped here in order to make the final hour of the trek first thing in the morning on fresh legs. They set up in a location where the rock formations would provide cover from the winter wind, but more importantly would obscure the campfire so it wouldn't be a beacon visible from the tower in the dark.

Misery stood looking out over the horizon for what seemed an interminable length of time to her dwarven companion. His impatience finally got the best of him and he sarcastically asked, "Is this a game of how long can you keep the dwarf in suspense?"

Without pulling her eyes away from the distant silhouette, she answered his question with one of her own. "Do dwarves dream?"

Varric blinked in surprise. Misery was rarely one to initiate conversation at all, and the times she did were almost always driven by purpose and not simply to shoot the breeze.

"Where did that come from?"

Misery sighed. "Sometimes I have these… dreams… that are so intense and vivid that they feel real. Father didn't know why, but he once told me that even though I don't have magic, I probably have a stronger connection to the Fade than most non-mages. Usually the dreams involve things, good or bad, that have happened in the past. But a few times in my life I have dreamt of the future."

"You mean like a premonition?"

When the female rogue glanced over curiously at him, he continued, "Dwarves don't dream. At least, not any that I know of. They say it's because we have no connection to the Fade. But I know what dreams are. And there are many legends of people who could supposedly see the future." With a grin he added, "You know, like Flemeth."

Misery nodded slowly. "Yes, well, I am no seer. I have no idea what triggers one of these dreams, nor can I can invoke one at will. And as I said, it's only happened a few times in my entire life."

"Call it a hunch, but I'm guessing you just had one of these premonitions or whatever you want to call them."

"Yeah…" She looked away, directing her gaze back towards the tower. "Bethany died."

"What? When is it supposed to happen? And where and how?" Each question came with an increasing level of concern.

"I can't say with any certainty," Misery answered with a bitter sigh. She took a moment to collect her thoughts and then filled Varric in on the details of the dream.

After she finished speaking, he whistled low. "Do they come true? These dreams about the future I mean."

"Once…" she replied. "A story for another day," she quickly added with the wave of a hand. "Anyway, a couple of other times I recognized when things were starting to happen and was able to change the outcome." After a short pause she sighed again. "Not much of a track record, I know."

Varric rubbed his chin while pondering the situation. "Let me ask this… you said some of the details in the dream were wrong, like your mother being there, claiming to have named you 'Misery', and just being so over the top hateful. And there was the weird shit where the person that was dead and the parent that was scolding you kept changing. So… do you think there's maybe a chance you're just… a little spooked because of that argument with your mother?"

Misery had told him on the first day how her mother became nearly frantic that both girls were going, or as Misery more cynically suggested, that Bethany was going. When Misery proclaimed she'd protect her sister, her mother scornfully told her not to make promises that weren't in her power to keep, reminding her that no matter how good her intentions were, she couldn't guarantee Bethany's safety any more than she was able to guarantee Carver's.

Gesturing across the valley towards the tower, Varric continued, "And maybe thinking too hard about what you might find out over there about your father?"

The raven haired rogue sighed deeply while running her fingers through her hair. "I… don't know…" she admitted. After a long pause she quietly said, "I'm scared to take Bethany in there. What if Mother is right and I _can't _protect her? I can't lose her…"

For the third time in the last half hour Misery had stunned him with something she said. It wasn't the first time he'd seen her uncertain, but the previous times she'd always been quick to catch herself and taken decisive action, for better or for worse. Here she seemed at a loss, like she was hoping for _him_ to have the answer she was struggling to find on her own.

"We leave her here then," he said matter-of-factly.

"What?"

"Look, Miz, I don't know anything about this dream stuff, but if you think you're being warned that Sunshine is going to die in that tower, that's good enough for me. We take Blondie with us and leave the rest here."

While contemplating this, Misery had another thought. "I need an honest, no bullshit assessment here. How good are your stealth skills?"

"Probably a bit rusty, but I can be a shadow if necessary. Whatcha thinking?"

"You and I go alone. We sneak in, eliminate Corypheus, and get out. Ideally without ever being seen."

"Ahhh… a good old assassination, eh?" Varric replied, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Been awhile since I've done one of those, and it _would_ be a nice change of pace from simply slaughtering everything that moves. Sure, why not? Let's do it. But… uhhh… you get to be the one to break the news to the others."

Misery smirked slightly for a moment before her expression softened and she nodded. "Thank you for… for being a friend."

The last of her words came out even more softly, and a gentle smile was very briefly visible before she turned away. She still wasn't completely comfortable letting him inside her barriers, but in this instance she was glad she'd taken the risk. Not that she was going to belabor the point, either to Varric or herself.

For Varric, a half dozen different sarcastic responses to her statement about being a friend immediately sprouted, only to die on the vine just as quickly by the smile she unknowingly disarmed him with. Instead he just shook his head and followed along while trying to avoid dwelling on the reaction she'd unintentionally provoked within him.

One thought he did allow himself, however, was hoping that Misery never realized how powerful that unguarded smile of hers would be if developed into a weapon of manipulation. To him it was like a vestige of innocence that hadn't been completely stamped out of her, and he didn't want to see it tainted as well.

-==0==-

With the last card held between his index and middle fingers, Anders flicked his wrist and sent it flying. Like the majority of his previous attempts, this one ricocheted off the outside of the pot he was aiming for. He stood up in a huff.

"What a bloody waste of time!" he exclaimed, making his feelings known once again. Even though it had been a few hours since Misery and Varric had left, he was nearly as upset now as he was then. He hadn't wanted to come in the first place, only giving in because Varric offered him dibs on anything magic related they found. But if Varric and Misery succeeded in their plan to infiltrate and escape unseen, it wasn't likely they were going to be looting along the way.

Aveline scowled in his direction, turning her attention away from the two female mages whose sparring she was overseeing. "None of us are happy with being dragged all the way out here just to have Misery decide we're not needed. Unless you're going to do something about it though, like pack up and go home without waiting for them to return, find something more productive to do than continuing to sit around bitching."

The anger and frustration among those left behind hadn't dissipated much after the departure of the two rogues. While Merrill mostly stewed in silent but visible frustration, Aveline and Anders griped openly, and in some cases viciously about Misery. To listen to them talk, neither were planning to help Misery again anytime soon.

Bethany had been furious enough with her sister not to bother defending her from what was being said, at least not for the first couple of hours. After that she was tired enough of both participating in and listening to the bashing to suggest working on Merrill's melee skills as a distraction. Aveline, Merrill, and she had calmed down considerably with something else to focus on, and while still irritated, none of the three of them were in the mood at the moment to revisit the earlier bitch session.

"Why don't you join us?" Bethany asked Anders, trying to keep the peace. "Learning how to fight without magic will benefit you as much as it will Merrill, and already has me."

Anders waved his hand in irritation. "I'd rather get rid of everyone who thinks simply being a mage is a crime."

"Now _there _is an intelligent solution," the guard-captain replied, shaking her head. "Why not just conscript the entire Circle? Not even the Grand Cleric could legally oppose the Grey Warden right of conscription, right?"

"Ha!" Bethany exclaimed. "Wouldn't you just love to see the look on Meredith's face as every mage in the Gallows left with their freedom?"

Anders frowned. Such a simple, yet devious plan. He was annoyed he'd never thought of it. Still, the longer he reflected on it, the more he realized it wasn't truly viable.

"It… it isn't that easy," he finally replied. "Besides the fact I'm no longer a warden, as I understand it the right of conscription isn't so absolute that it's without consequence. If the Grey Wardens tried to abuse conscription like that, especially without a Blight going on, they'd likely find themselves expelled from the nation or city-state."

There was also the fact that even if mass conscription was possible, he wouldn't expect more than half of the Circle mages to even survive the Joining. Then again, as far as he was concerned the collateral damage might be worth it anyway. However, he wasn't one to just offhandedly reveal Grey Warden secrets despite his lack of status with them, so he didn't bring up the issue of the Joining.

The sounds of someone approaching halted the conversation. Anders grabbed his staff and fell into a fighting stance as the others took up ready positions. The edginess only partially subsided at the sight of a very stern looking Misery pushing through the brush. Varric followed a few seconds later. He saw the glares being directed at Misery and recognized that they were all still pissed at her.

The argument preceding the departure of Misery and Varric had been… _intense_. Misery refused to explain why the plans changed, and only dug her heels in further when Aveline and Bethany vehemently protested. Bethany's equally stubborn refusal to be left behind had nearly resulted in a physical confrontation before Varric inserted himself between the sisters.

The memory of the last time he'd literally gotten in the middle of a Misery staredown came to mind, causing the dwarf to immediately rule out saying something sarcastic that would turn their anger on him. Instead he urged Misery to just tell Sunshine what was going on. That didn't go over particularly well with his fellow rogue either, and the glare she leveled at him was about as opposite an expression from the earlier gentle smile as it could be.

Varric had briefly considered telling the younger Hawke himself. He wasn't sure what level of hostility Misery would react with in the short-term if he went ahead and did so, but he was positive that if he did she would immediately withdraw the newfound trust she'd been so loath to give in the first place. It would reinforce her cynical attitude and she'd close herself off once again in response. That was a price he was unwilling to pay under the circumstances, so he reluctantly opted to keep his mouth shut and follow her lead.

"Change of plans," Misery said without preamble. "Pack up. We're all going in now." The clipped tone made it clear she wasn't happy about the turn of events.

Anders huffed. "Oh, so _now _you want our help?"

"Stuff it, Anders," Aveline said while moving to gather her things. "Just a minute ago you were complaining about 'what a bloody waste of time' sitting around waiting was." She then turned her attention towards Misery. "What happened? You two obviously saw some action."

Misery exhaled in exasperation. "Apparently Hawke blood is a fucking beacon that these damned dwarves are drawn to like moths to torchlights. We didn't even get inside the fort surrounding the tower before they knew I was there."

"You weren't just spotted by lookouts?" the guard-captain asked.

"No… we approached along a blind path."

Varric nodded. "We heard shouts starting up about 'the Hawke' while safely in cover. When she decided to force the issue and we approached anyway, the guy at the gate called out before we even came into view. He knew she was there without even seeing her."

"Thank you," Bethany said to Varric, "for talking her into coming back for us instead of plowing ahead anyway."

Misery scowled at her sister automatically arriving at the conclusion that it had been his decision, or even suggestion, that they turn back. Instead of pointing out that it was _her _decision, however, she instead suggested that they spend less time talking and more time breaking down camp. The false start was already going to amount to several hours of wasted time.

"Hey, Blondie," Varric said, noting the mage was in the process of picking up the scattered Wicked Grace cards. "Have Daisy draw a card and tell us what our luck is going to be."

Anders smirked at the dwarf but quickly shuffled the cards and fanned them out in the direction of Merrill, who was probably the most superstitious of the group. The elf tentatively drew a card and clutched it to her chest for a moment before looking down at it. She sighed in relief.

"It is an angel. That is a good omen, yes?" She held it up for the others to see.

It was the angel of death.

-==0==-

The group marched to the fort under a cloak of tense silence. Varric had started off with a couple of stories in an attempt to lighten the mood, but when they were met with almost no response he left the others to their brooding. He knew that with the possible exception of Daisy, anger at Misery was at least as much of a contributing factor to the collective mood as was the danger ahead.

After his drawing a card for luck joke backfired, Varric suspected it was only the knowledge that Sunshine's life would remain at risk if the threat wasn't dealt with that kept Aveline and Blondie from telling Misery to stick it. Not that he thought they believed that hocus-pocus stuff. It was just that with this mission already seemingly akin to a shaky house of cards, he thought the angel of death was simply the one to bring the house down.

Varric also realized he was getting irritated with his fellow rogue as well, though it was for a different reason than the others. He felt that Sunshine deserved to know what she was potentially walking into, and didn't understand keeping her in the dark at this point. He'd already decided to pull Misery aside if she hadn't spoken up by the time they reached the tower.

Misery stopped briefly at the entrance of the fort's outer courtyard, drawing her bow while her aqua eyes scanned for new threats. Finding none, she resumed moving forward. The entire sequence took place without the utterance of a single word.

The others exchanged glances, the negative body language showing their unspoken disapproval. Varric said nothing, rubbing his face in exasperation before gesturing for everyone to keep going.

"This all your handiwork?" Aveline asked as they moved through the courtyard, gesturing around. The ground was littered with dead dwarves.

"Mostly hers," Varric replied. "You'd think word would've gotten back by now not to piss her off."

He looked over to see if his remark at least elicited a smirk from Misery, sighing when she gave no reaction at all. He'd question if she was even paying attention, except he knew she was hyperaware of everything going on around her. She had that look to her, the one of a predator right on the verge of striking at its prey. She was a fully drawn longbow, taut with energy that could only be controlled for so long at the cusp of release. He didn't like when she got like this, because when she did the odds were high of her doing something impulsive that caught _everyone_ off guard.

As they got closer to the interior gate separating the outer and inner courtyards, they could hear shouts amidst the general sounds of activity coming from inside. Unlike when Misery and Varric had been here earlier, the heavy iron reinforced wooden gate was closed.

"Sounds like they are gathering their forces," Aveline noted.

Misery frowned at the locked gate, mentally debating whether to open it and face a likely frontal assault, to take up positions and wait to ambush the dwarves when they opened the gate, or to find a less conspicuous way in. She tossed the last option almost immediately, since inconspicuous wasn't going to get her very far under the circumstances. It only took a few more moments before she decided she'd rather take the fight to them while they were still scurrying around in preparation.

The rogue retrieved her set of lockpicks from her pack and went to work. After a few unsuccessful minutes trying to crack the lock, Varric sidled up next to her.

"Here," he said. Misery glanced over to see him holding a key in his outstretched hand. Grinning, he added, "Found it on the nug licker that came out to greet us earlier."

This time he did get a slight smirk out of her. She took the key and inserted it into the lock. When the cylinder turned, releasing the lock on the large bolt holding the doors together, she nodded in thanks while putting away her picks.

Misery looked back at her companions. "Hit them hard and fast," she ordered. Without waiting for a response she shoved the deadbolt aside and kicked the gate open.

-==0==-

"What was that thing?" Bethany asked, gesturing towards the slain four-legged horned beast.

"Dinner if I had to guess," Anders replied sarcastically while finishing up healing Aveline.

Varric shook his head. "Some tough eating there, Blondie. At least that's what I've heard anyway. That's a bronto. Dwarves use them mostly like oxen for heavy lifting, though some lines are bred as war mounts."

"It was scary when it charged," Merrill admitted. "I have seen wild animals, but never such a fearsome beast."

Varric grinned slightly. "Better not let Revas hear you say that. It might hurt his feelings."

While Merrill blushed and the others chuckled, Misery closed her eyes, wishing once again that her mabari was with her instead of back at Uncle Gamlen's house protecting her mother. It felt like she'd hardly seen him since this mess with the Carta started. She quickly pushed the thought away though and began walking further into the interior of the fort. They were getting closer to the tower itself, and she had no intention of letting her concentration falter.

The others once again exchanged looks after Misery merely continued forward without saying anything. Still, they fell in behind her.

-==0==-

After a couple of more skirmishes, the group now stood outside a door that led into the interior of the tower. While most of the group sat down to catch their breath from the furious fighting, Misery paced back and forth impatiently. Varric finally got up and grabbed her by the arm and pulled her aside.

"You have to tell her," he said.

"No."

"You don't think she deserves to know what she might be walking into?"

"She absolutely deserves to know."

"But you still aren't going to tell her?"

"No."

Varric rubbed his face in exasperation with Misery. "Dammit, Hawke! She's your sister! Why are you doing this?"

"Any one of these battles could be our last. There's nothing to be gained now by her knowing what I intend to prevent from happening."

"How can you be so cold and calculating about this?" he demanded incredulously.

In the blink of an eye Misery grabbed the dwarf by the front of his duster and shoved him forcefully into the wall behind him. He grunted loudly and would have slumped over after the impact except that Misery was still holding on. She leaned in until her face was mere inches from his, and the emotion she'd been masking was now on full display.

"I can't have her fighting scared!" Misery hissed. "She does that and she's already done for! There is _nothing_ right now that matters more to me than getting her through this, so don't you fucking dare imply that I don't care!" She paused for a moment, then hoarsely whispered, "Besides… I am scared enough for the both of us."

"What's going on here?" Aveline asked, approaching the pair of rogues warily. The others were coming up behind the guard-captain as well, curious as to what the commotion was about.

"Nothing…" Misery growled, letting go of Varric and stalking away.

Varric waved his hand dismissively. "She forgot for a moment that _this _dwarf is on _her _side." He meant that remark as a pointed reminder to Misery just as much as to deflect follow up questioning. While readjusting his duster the thought came to mind that at least she didn't grab him by the chest hair this time.

"Hawke!" Aveline barked. When Misery turned around, she continued, "Stop treating us like we're nothing but mercenaries hired to do your bidding! We're your _friends_, though I'll be damned if I know why at the rate you're going."

Misery exhaled audibly before nodding.

The reaction caused Aveline to shake her head in disapproval. "If you were one of my guards you'd have my boot up your ass about now."

When Misery didn't reply, Bethany wagged a finger at her. "You know how you'd react if someone was treating _you_ like this, so why are you expecting us to put up with it?"

The rogue looked away briefly before returning her gaze to her sister. "Your point is made." With that, she nodded and turned away towards the door.

Misery understood that the others wanted to throttle her, but she didn't allow herself to care. In her mind the stakes were too high not to remain focused on the matter at hand. Though she hoped Varric was right about the circumstances involved making her overly paranoid and triggering that stupid nightmare, she couldn't shake the feeling of dread she was working so hard to keep hidden from the others.

Leaders couldn't show weakness, or so she thought. She'd seen frightened leaders doom the Battle of Ostagar before it ever got started, and on a smaller scale had seen fear unravel otherwise well prepared individuals and groups. Misery was an expert at using fear as a weapon against her enemies.

Ostagar… it had been an abject disaster by any possible measure, with a number of things conspiring against the Fereldan armies. Mireille Hawke had been an archer from the Lothering militia, assigned to a detachment providing covering fire from the bridge above the battlefield, and she remembered vividly the mood throughout the camp in the days before the final battle that saw their forces completely routed.

Other than a brief period shortly after King Cailan had confidently addressed their unit with a flowery speech about glory and legends, there was an almost palpable fear throughout the ranks. She'd felt at the time that the squad leaders and unit commanders fostered it with their own unease, which was evident even in the ones that attempted to conceal it behind a wall of rhetoric. Carver had suggested the same thing to her during the brief time they talked the day of the battle. He had no confidence in his superiors either, thinking they were carrying themselves with an air of resignation to a lost cause.

In hindsight it was no surprise to her how quickly morale failed and ranks broke during the battle, that the fear overwhelmed training and discipline. Even while launching arrow after arrow from her squad's perch over the battlefield, Mireille had clearly seen the disarray the armies were in, how the fighting had devolved mostly into self-preservation tactics that were nearly hopeless against the onslaught of far superior darkspawn numbers. And when the darkspawn began to overrun the bridge, her squad leader screamed almost immediately in terror for the archers to abandon their posts and fall back.

On the long walk back to Lothering afterwards, she and Carver had both been furious that Teyrn Loghain's reinforcements never joined the battle. Reflecting on it later though, Mireille realized that it ultimately made little difference. Carver had been right about the battle being a lost cause before it ever started, and she couldn't help but wonder how differently it might have gone if frightened leaders hadn't unwittingly sapped the will of their people to fight.

It wasn't long afterwards that she found herself leading her family away from their home and being faced with the choice of continuing to travel along the darkspawn infested roads or venturing off into the unknown of the Korcari Wilds. Both were equally terrifying prospects, and neither her mother nor Bethany were coping well with the situation.

Mireille had difficulty tolerating weakness in herself as it was, but the freshness of Ostagar and seeing in the other two women's eyes that they were on the verge of giving into despair made for a short leap to Mireille deciding she needed to outwardly reflect strength and determination regardless of how she felt inwardly. To do so she would close off, largely keeping her thoughts to herself, speaking primarily to issue orders or reminders to stay focused, trying never to show weakness in front of those counting on her.

It was harsh, but served the purpose – _survival_.

That practice carried over to the jobs Athenril sent her to lead and became not only her habit, but an unconscious means of coping with her own anxieties. And in a lifestyle where it could be potentially dangerous to show weakness even around those counted among your allies, it became a form of protection. She'd rather liked that on the one hand, Athenril's associates respected and believed in her abilities, while on the other hand, most were intimidated enough to more or less leave her alone outside of a job.

Misery had also discovered in the time since leaving Athenril's service that her companions getting upset with her resulted in less of what she saw as the unfocused, distracted bantering along the way that they were often prone to, something she was grateful for on more dangerous missions. She assumed that since anger often served her as a means of maintaining focus, it worked that way for others as well.

And while she didn't consciously do things with the intent of infuriating the others, if it happened and kept in check the emotions that might otherwise be tied up in fear and doubt over the mission itself, she was fine with that. After all, the goal wasn't to make people happy or to make them like her. It was to survive.

With all of those beliefs and assumptions conspiring in her subconscious even while her present focus was firmly centered on the task at hand, Misery ignored the death glares she knew were coming her way. Instead, she merely stalked over to the door leading into the tower and waited for the others to follow. She'd give them a few more minutes to pull it together before forcing the issue.

-==0==-

Varric sighed, realizing Misery was doing it again. Just as he'd seen her do on the job for Athenril and a few other times, she was making things harder than necessary on both herself and everyone around her by closing off and refusing to communicate. And as far as he was concerned it wasn't even about her unwillingness to share the specifics of what was bothering her with friends who would understand and support her, though that still frustrated him as well.

It made no sense to him why she'd choose to let everyone misunderstand her, allowing them to think she was just being an ungrateful bitch and resent her for it. He knew she wasn't as oblivious to the negative responses her behavior provoked as she came across, so he didn't understand why she'd not only let it fester, but seemingly feed off of it to steel herself further.

But what really bothered him when she went into this mode was her unpredictable impulsivity. He suspected that inside her head she was constantly several moves ahead of everyone else, but by not communicating she left the rest of them guessing and scrambling to keep up. The silver lining was that it forced everyone to keep their guards up at all times. Unfortunately, it also added an undesirable element to battles, where everyone was forced to keep track of and accommodate Misery's actions to avoid friendly fire in either direction, because it wasn't happening the other way around.

His thought process was interrupted when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Why is my sister so on edge?" Bethany asked.

"What makes you think I know?"

Bethany scoffed. "You were the only one she took with her this morning, and unlike the rest of us you've seemed more worried than upset with her. And from where I was standing it appeared you must have said something to her that really touched a nerve."

"I…" Varric started before shaking his head. "Sorry, Sunshine, she'll need to be the one that tells you. I'm not going to betray her trust, so don't ask me to gossip."

Bethany chuckled sarcastically. "Gee, can't imagine where I've heard _that _before." She'd spoken almost those exact words to him not long after they first met.

"For what it's worth, I think she's making a mistake," he said. "She _is_ out of sorts for good reason, but keeping it bottled up isn't helping anyone, herself included." He shook his head again and sighed. "I really hate it when she gets like this."

"I know…" Bethany said softly. "I call it going to her 'dark place'. Whatever it is… I just pray it doesn't get her killed."

_Her dark place_, Varric thought. _How apropos_.


	24. The Friends We Wound

Misery motioned for the others to wait, then crouched low and crept forward into cover behind a pair of crates. They'd just entered the tower and almost immediately heard the sounds of snoring coming from nearby. Misery spied the sleeping dwarf lying on the floor near a staircase leading down at the other side of the room.

The rogue slowly stood while readying an arrow. It was an easy shot at close range against a defenseless target, and her aim was true. The arrow pierced the dwarf's throat, taking his life in his sleep.

While the dwarf's death was silent, neither the bow releasing its projectile nor the arrow colliding with its target was.

"What was that?" a voice from the room below could be heard saying.

Misery quickly readied another arrow. As soon as she saw a dwarf reach the top of the stairs she turned her shot loose. It hit him in the face, snapping his head back and knocking him back down the stairs into another Carta thug that was coming up behind him. Misery hurdled over the crates, racing to the top of the stairs while reloading.

Seeing the first dwarf wasn't moving, she fired on the other one, who was struggling to get to his feet. Her first shot buried itself into the dwarf's shoulder. The second entered the side of his head, dropping him. Her companions approached while she retrieved her arrow from the dwarf that had previously been sleeping.

Aveline glanced over the railing to the room below. "Nice work, Shadow," she muttered before moving past the girl and descending the stairs to investigate.

Misery glared at the warrior's retreating form but didn't reply. Instead she merely followed, retrieving her other arrows while the others looked for anything particularly valuable to loot.

Exiting through the other side of the room and moving down a long hall, they reached what appeared to have once been a lift, now caved in and covered with rock. A doorway to the left led down another hall, but as Misery started in that direction she heard Varric utter an expletive. Everyone turned towards the dwarf.

Varric held up a missive that he'd picked up off a table on the way by. "_'Small hovel in Lowtown, owner one Gamlen Amell. Take either or both of the young women, but keep them alive. The blood of Malcolm Hawke must remain pure and full of life. The old man and woman are of no consequence. If they get in the way eliminate them. In the name of the Master, Corypheus. May he see sunlight again.' _ Obviously they even know where you live."

Misery nodded solemnly. "Confirms what we had already figured out."

Bethany scoffed. "Yes, well, for being ordered to keep us alive they sure seem intent on killing us."

"'The blood of Malcolm Hawke must remain pure'…" Anders repeated before shaking his head. "They already failed on that part."

When the others looked at him quizzically, he explained, "They are blood relatives of Malcolm Hawke, but also of Leandra Amell. So if this Corypheus needs the blood to be pure Hawke, he or it is out of luck."

Varric chuckled humorlessly. "I'm sure we'll all have a big laugh together after explaining to Corypheus it's all just a big misunderstanding." As an afterthought he added, "And then the Carta can go back to collecting gold instead of blood."

-==0==-

The sounds of conversation coming from nearby caused Misery to motion for the group to proceed very quietly. They came around a bend to find a pair of dwarven archers standing side by side at a railing with their backs turned to them, looking out over an area.

"If I capture the Hawke, Master will let me go into the tunnels and drink of the blood," one said to the other. He paused for a moment before bitterly adding, "I want to hear the music like the others."

"Quiet!" the other said in an admonishing tone. "We were told to wait in silence!"

Misery slowly returned her bow to its harness on her back and drew her knives. She gathered herself and pounced, plunging a blade into the back of each of their necks simultaneously. After quickly checking the bodies, she stood and surveyed the area below. It was a large rocky cavern that didn't appear significant other than having an exit at the far side.

A glance around didn't reveal any apparent way of getting down there from here, so she guessed the archers had been in a defensive position watching for intruders entering from the other side. She looked straight down and saw a lone dwarf sitting on a rock maybe a hundred feet below. A devious thought came to mind.

She motioned for Aveline, having the warrior assist her in lifting one of the dead bodies up on to the railing. With another look down to confirm her target was lined up, she gave the dead body a shove. It rolled overboard, falling until it landed on the dwarf below, killing him instantly. Misery struggled not to laugh gleefully at the result, but mostly succeeded in maintaining her mask of grimness.

Still, Aveline's slight grin even while shaking her head was enough to elicit a smirk from the rogue and prompt the others to step forward to see what she'd done.

"_Killing for Fun and Profit, volume 3, chapter 7, _by Misery Hawke," Varric said dryly. "Drop a dead body on your unsuspecting victim from high above." After a short pause while shaking his head at the sight, he continued, "I don't know which thought is scarier, Hawke. That the artistic flair you kill with is creative inspiration striking you at the moment, or that you sit around planning out this shit for future use."

Misery shrugged. "Saved me an arrow anyway."

"Right…" Bethany began, "Because clearly just the sight of someone else alive here was something that needed to be rectified one way or another."

"Steel your heart, Bethany," the older sister chided while walking down a short flight of stairs towards a landing that had a table with a chest on it. "It's us or them. Don't forget that for a second."

While Misery worked the lock on the chest, Aveline went through the desk drawers. She withdrew a small book, a page falling out and fluttering to the ground after she opened it up. Merrill picked up the page, her expression showing confusion as she skimmed it over.

"'_The Wardens did not guard the key with care'_…" she read before trailing off and mumbling through the few sentences that came afterwards. When she got to the main part of interest, she slowed down and read more clearly, "_'It will not wake at my touch; it sleeps and its power remains within. The Great One says it requires Malcolm Hawke's blood to awaken it. Only then can its powers set him free. I will obtain the blood and the Great One will reward me._'"

"A key tuned to Father's blood?" Bethany asked. "That would mean…"

Merrill glanced up at Bethany. "It skips from there to a later date… _'…A setback . The nug humpers I sent to Ferelden returned with word that Malcolm Hawke no longer lives. Perhaps not all is lost. They discovered information on three heirs to the Hawke blood. Last known location was Lothering, destroyed during the Blight. Grey Warden archives in the tower identify Kirkwall as home to Malcolm Hawke and his wife. I will send more to investigate there. The Master grows impatient. Must find Hawke blood soon.'_."

The elf turned the page over. "After that it jumps ahead again… _'Success! Two heirs to the Hawke blood living in Kirkwall! I will have them brought here and soon the Great One will reward me'_…"

Aveline shook her head. "If we'd gone somewhere other than Kirkwall, the Carta would've been hard pressed to ever find you."

Bethany wasn't so sure. "Maybe… But some of these dwarves obviously track us by our blood." She sighed. "I wonder why only some can? Those last two didn't sense us approaching. I admit all of this blood stuff makes me uncomfortable."

At that moment the lock to the chest finally popped. Misery flipped the top and withdrew a shiny orb from within that was warm to the touch.

"Do you think this is the key?" she asked, handing the orb to her sister. The expression on the rogue's face said to let the subject of blood magic drop. It wasn't truly a surprise at this point anyway.

"I-I don't know," the younger girl admitted. "We should take it with us if nothing else."

"That page," Aveline said, "was tucked into this book. It's the journal of someone named Rhatigan."

"Oh!" Merrill exclaimed. "One of those dwarves that attacked us near the Gallows said they were sent by Rhatigan."

Misery nodded. "And said that Rhatigan was their Carta boss. Sounds like he's the liaison to Corypheus. Let's go find him."

The group made their way along the winding path towards the entrance to another room. Tensions were already beginning to rise among most of them in anticipation of another encounter when Merrill suddenly broke the silence.

"So, your father was a blood mage?"

The expression on Misery's face as she whirled around made the elf immediately regret asking the question. Bethany could easily see her sister blowing her top in her current mood and quickly intervened.

"_No_, Merrill. He was _not _a maleficar." She sighed, explaining, "Mother said when she was pregnant with my sister the Grey Wardens offered her and Father safe passage to Ferelden in exchange for him helping them with something. And from what we know now, it was apparently to imprison this Corypheus here. But… I don't know why Father would agree to a blood magic ritual. He was adamantly against blood magic, and I never once saw him use it while growing up. He always said the allure is powerful but the control over it is too tenuous. It's too easy to lose oneself to the places you must go to use it."

Merrill scoffed slightly. "Untrained, perhaps. He was a Circle mage, of course he was taught to fear blood magic instead of learning to use it responsibly."

"There is a _responsible_ way to commune with demons in order to learn to harness it?" Bethany asked incredulously.

"Shut up, both of you," Misery ordered. "We are _not _having this discussion right now. Besides, what I don't understand is why the Grey Wardens needed Father at all. They obviously have mages in their ranks."

Anders rubbed his chin in contemplation. "We heard those dwarves discussing drinking blood and hearing the music. The darkspawn threat we faced back in Amaranthine after the Blight was over… there was this broodmother we encountered – a hideous creature that gives birth to darkspawn – who babbled about not being able to hear the music of the old god anymore. I wonder if this Corypheus is something like an old god in being able to call out to darkspawn or darkspawn tainted beings. If so, it might have been too dangerous or even impossible for the Grey Wardens to get close without falling under its influence. In other words, they may have needed a mage that specifically _wasn't _a warden."

"Why would there be a risk to Grey Wardens but not others?" Misery asked.

"Well… Grey Wardens share a certain affinity with darkspawn that enables them to keep those foul creatures in check and combat Blights. Let's just leave it at that."

Misery's eyes narrowed. "Are _you _going to be a problem if you get too close to Corypheus?"

"Sister!" Bethany exclaimed. "Anders is _helping_ us! And he's not even a Grey Warden anymore!"

"There she goes fondling Andraste again," Varric muttered, shaking his head.

Instead of getting angry, however, Anders merely sighed.

"I don't know…" he said softly. "It's not something that goes away simply because I'm no longer counted as a member of the club. Again, I'm speculating on what _might _be going on here. If you don't want my help though, I'm certainly not going to object to heading for the surface."

Bethany put her hand on his shoulder, a concerned but sympathetic smile forming. "Do you think you would be able to sense if something was wrong and warn us before Corypheus could get to you? Or could the presence of Justice help protect you from Corypheus's influence? You know if it was a physical attack we would defend you."

"A lot of "ifs" there," Aveline noted dryly.

Anders nodded at the guard-captain in agreement. "I will tell you if I hear this music they're talking about, but I don't know what affect it would have on me."

Misery ran her fingers through her hair as she assimilated the new information and contemplated what to do. She didn't like the risk, but if Anders was willing to press forward she was inclined to keep his healing skills with them. Then again, if she was unable to change the future, his healing skills weren't going to be enough to make a difference anyway.

"Alright, let's go," she finally said. "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

As the others were starting to walk away, Misery grabbed Aveline's arm to hold her up. "Do me a favor," she whispered. "Keep Bethany close to you at all times. No exceptions, no excuses."

She paused for a moment, then continued, "Also, if Anders goes insane like these dwarves and becomes a threat to us, don't hesitate to run him through."

Aveline stared back curiously for a moment before nodding grimly in agreement.

-==0==-

The further down the tower the group traveled, the more the hallways became winding tunnels rather than the formalized construction one typically expected inside of a building. Misery knew they were well below ground level after descending at least a dozen sets of stairs already, and that knowledge coupled with the general appearance and layout of their surroundings reminded her of Darktown. It turned out she wasn't the only one that had that thought.

"So tell me," Anders grumbled, "How is it that this place looks exactly like Darktown?"

"Arky…" Misery answered in a flat tone. "He's everywhere."

The response caused Bethany to break into a fit of giggles, which in turn caused the others to stare at the mage in bewilderment. She held up her hand while recomposing herself. After getting her mirth under control, she began to explain what triggered them in the first place.

"Back when we first came to Kirkwall it didn't take us long to start noticing not only how much of the interiors of places around the city looked the same, but how the sameness would show up in very odd ways – like the inside of a warehouse at the Docks looking identical to the inside of a house in Lowtown and a business in Hightown. So, we made up a silly story about a rather unimaginative man named 'Arky Tekt' that designed everything. Then whenever we ran into another place that looked just like somewhere we'd been previously, we'd say it was the work of Arky."

Varric pretended to be dumbfounded. "Wait… let me get this straight… you're telling me that _Misery Hawke_ just told… a joke?" He shook his head. "We seriously need to work on your delivery, Hawke."

"Anyway," Bethany said, "I know it wasn't _that_ funny, but I guess just the unexpected timing of her bringing that up tickled me."

Varric chuckled anyway. "Good idea though, having a story to explain why so often you go somewhere for the first time and feel like you've already been there. Maybe when I retell it I'll add a mentally impaired cousin 'Byl Dur' that helped him out."

Bethany giggled again when Varric cracked a grin and winked, while Misery merely rolled her eyes in response. She already regretted the distraction her remark caused.

While the others were bantering back and forth, Aveline noticed that Merrill seemed troubled. "You doing alright, Merrill?"

"Huh? Oh, yes… sorry."

"Is it because we're going so far underground? I know your people aren't really used to this sort of thing."

"Used to what, ceilings?" the elf asked in an annoyed tone. "This is hardly the first time I have been indoors."

She knew the woman meant well, but still thought that Aveline was one of the worst about treating her like she was dimwitted or unable to function like a normal person. And Misery's behavior had her more on edge than usual.

"That isn't what I meant," Aveline replied. "Never mind."

"What about you?" Merrill asked in return. "Are you having fun? I would think you would be."

"Why would you possibly think that?"

"Captain of the Guard, a tower full of criminals. Kind of like a child in a candy shop?"

Aveline sighed and began walking off. "You can be such an airhead, Merrill."

"Mmm… what's an 'airhead'?"

Varric coughed. "She just meant that you're so clever you can control air with your mind."

"Oh! I would not have guessed it was a compliment from the way she said it. Maybe she needs to work on her delivery as well."

"We'll add it to the list, Daisy."

"Hey, check this out…" Anders said, interrupting. "I found this leaflet. Looks to be some kind of evangelical propaganda about Corypheus. Listen to this part of it – '_What is the Carta besides Corypheus? Nothing but dust and ashes. Only Corypheus is eternal. We are his hands and his eyes on the surface. We are the ones honored with his trust, to dig him from his prison in the Deep Roads._'"

"Maker's breath!" Bethany exclaimed. "Eternal? This just keeps getting better, doesn't it?"

"Look on the bright side, Sunshine," Varric said, "When we get back home I'll be able to tell Bartrand we're experienced Deep Roads explorers." Despite the attempt at lightheartedness, concern seeped into his tone.

Misery took the parchment from Anders and skimmed over it. "So you think the lower levels of this place open up into the Deep Roads?"

"Sounds like it…" Anders replied, sighing in resignation. "I have a bad feeling about where this is going."

Misery crumpled the parchment into a ball and threw it before closing her eyes and rubbing her temples.

"Whatcha thinking, Hawke?" Varric asked.

The rogue glared back. "I doubt you really want to know."

"Try me."

"Fucking insane dwarves, fucking Grey Wardens, fucking Deep Roads, fucking Corypheus, fucking blood magic, and fuck not being able to do a fucking thing about it except continue killing every fucking thing in my fucking path!" She took and released an exasperated breath. "Happy now?"

Varric shook his head slightly. "Note to self," he said, "Next time she says you don't want to know, believe her."

-==0==-

"Watch for an ambush…" Aveline warned as they stepped off the stairs leading down another level.

The hall in front of them was wide, yet littered with obstacles that individually seemed to have no purpose in being there. When taken as a whole, however, a picture of strategically placed concealment came into view. An overturned mining cart, crates, a pile of rubble, and a stack of wood beams could all serve as cover for an ambush.

They'd only moved roughly another hundred feet when a dwarf suddenly came running at them.

"It-it's the Hawke!" he exclaimed while running. "Both of them!"

Misery was in the process of drawing an arrow back when she heard Varric gasp in obvious astonishment and call out, "Gerav?" She made the split second decision to hold her shot since the charging dwarf didn't have his own weapon drawn yet.

"V-Varric?" the other dwarf, partially out of breath, asked in an equally surprised tone. He slowed down and stopped ten feet in front of them. At this distance it was clear that he was like many of the other dwarves, with the pupils of his eyes shrunk to the point where they were almost entirely white.

"Nobody said you were involved in this," Gerav continued. "When did you come back to the Carta? Are you bringing us the Hawkes?"

"What in the Void are you doing here?" Varric demanded, ignoring the questions. "This isn't like you! Gutting the occasional competitor for fun and profit, sure… that's the game. But worshipping whatever this Corypheus is? Why are you involved in this shit?"

"I-I can't say… but the Master… he must be free. He must have the Hawke blood."

Misery was racking her brain trying to remember the significance of the name Gerav. She felt like she'd heard Varric mention it before, but for the life of her she couldn't remember when or where.

Anders shook his head. "He's more lucid than most have been, but still seems to be a few bricks shy of a wall."

Varric scowled at the mage before turning his attention back to the dwarf. "Gerav… buddy… pull it together. Trust me, you don't want to do this." There was a sense of urgency in his tone that was almost pleading.

A moment later it clicked and Misery's eyes grew wide. This was Varric's best friend. The last of the three he'd told her about. Things were going to get complicated.

"You don't understand, Varric! The Master demands it!"

Varric huffed. "How can this 'master' demand anything? Isn't it locked away somewhere? Why are you, of all people, taking orders from it?"

Gerav's expression faltered. "We… we drink the darkspawn blood… he calls to us."

"Why in the world would you drink darkspawn blood?" Varric asked in annoyance. "Dwarven ale with lyrium chasers not doing it for you anymore?"

"It's the only way… the only way to hear the music." There was both sadness and a sense of longing to the dwarf's tone.

The response only further infuriated Varric. "Music? Oh, come on! Snap out of it, you nug licker! You want to hear music, go to a tavern and listen to the bards play! There's no profit in hallucinating! Leave this Corypheus to rot and get out of here! Go back to being that greedy, brilliant, bastard son-of-a-nug that gave birth to Bianca!"

Varric held up the crossbow in front of him, continuing, "Look, I've still got her! She's never misfired a day in her life. You don't want her to see her papa like this, do you?"

"Varric…" Gerav said hoarsely, for the briefest of moments appearing clear-headed. However, the moment left just as quickly as it came and the glazed expression returned. "Th-the Master is calling. He needs the blood…"

"We seem to be at an impasse," Bethany noted.

Varric's expression faltered for a moment. He didn't want to do this. Varric was a friendly guy who had many acquaintances, the social type that could find enough common ground to have a good time hanging out with most people. But few were the number he was genuinely close to. Gerav was one of those few. Or at least _had _been. Varric was having difficulty seeing what was left of his friend inside this shell of a dwarf standing in front of him.

However, despite Gerav's corruption, the acidic burn of bile accompanied Varric's thoughts of turning on his friend. He wanted to save Gerav, to get him away from this place and Corypheus' influence, though he realized it would matter little in the end. The other dwarves that attacked the Hawkes back in Kirkwall were just as much the seemingly empty, animated husks as most of the ones here in the tower. So getting Gerav away from here wasn't going to fix the damage done. And that both saddened and angered him.

Regardless of Gerav's intent to push the issue not leaving any real choice, Varric warred with himself nonetheless. Loyalty mattered to him and the lack of choice while being torn between competing interests did nothing to alleviate the feeling he was not only letting Gerav down, but betraying him.

Still, Varric knew he had to commit to a course of action… and what that course would be.

Gerav had made his choices that led to this. He had chosen to drink darkspawn blood and the consequences that followed. Neither Misery nor Sunshine chose to be part of a lineage whose blood was required to unleash something that seemed to have been imprisoned for damned good reason.

That knowledge tipped the balance in Varric's mind. But even knowing what needed to happen, he was struggling to take action.

Misery knew she should say something, she just didn't know what. They needed to eliminate this guy, but even she wouldn't ask Varric to participate in killing his best friend on her behalf. Her thoughts were interrupted though when Varric turned to face Bethany and nodded bitterly in regards to her comment about being at an impasse.

"Would you mind not pointing Bianca at my sister?" Misery blurted out, her sudden concern for her sister overriding everything else. "Or are you siding with your friend here?"

Varric's eyes grew wide and he was momentarily stunned by her gut punch of an accusation. However, he quickly caught himself and glared at her with more disgust than he'd ever directed her way.

"Fuck you, Hawke, for even thinking that," he spat out.

Misery… though Varric tried hard, he was having an increasingly difficult time denying to himself that his fondness for her had begun to extend beyond merely friendship. But even while attempting to ignore that, reality was that the more he'd grown to care for her, the more it hurt when she gave him no benefit of the doubt. What was once the equivalent of a pin prick on his feelings was now a full on dagger stab.

Varric tore his glare away from Misery and settled it back on Gerav. His expression shifted in the process, becoming solemn as he realized he was addressing his friend for what would be the last time.

"I'm sorry, Gerav, but I can't let you go through with taking them. I really wish it didn't have to go down like this…" Steeling himself, he continued, "I think it's time to say goodbye. Give my regards to Hjalmarr and Rasmus when you see them."

He cocked Bianca and fired, but Gerav was already gone. The dwarven assassin shattered a small canister at his feet and used the veil of smoke it produced to dive roll out of the way and then take off running. When the smoke cleared enough to see, Gerav was standing further back with a pair of daggers drawn and a trio of dwarves at his back.

"Reinforcements!" Varric shouted while firing again. "You bastard!"

-==0==-

The fighting was fast and furious. The trio of assassins made up for their lack of numbers with speed, constant motion, misdirection, and well coordinated attacks. Neither Aveline nor Varric had any success landing attacks, despite having their reaction times augmented through Anders' magic, and both had suffered stab wounds. Misery eventually abandoned her bow in favor of daggers when frustration with shooting at air boiled over.

One dwarf went down when Merrill managed to entangle him long enough for Bethany to unload a succession of fire and ice spells. Another took a lightning bolt from Anders after getting inside Merrill's defenses and badly wounding her. The electric shock stunned the assassin briefly, allowing Bethany to set him aflame and then bash his head in.

Misery stalked Gerav all over the impromptu battlefield. For a stocky fellow, he was exceedingly quick. And as Misery found out, his approach to a fight was to stab, disappear in a cloud of smoke, and then reappear behind his victim for a surprise attack. She finally returned the favor, using the assassin's own obfuscation to backstab him while he was attacking Varric. Misery then took out her frustrations by staking a dagger straight down into the top of Gerav's skull, ending him.

Misery didn't want to admit it, but her survival had less to do with her individual skill and more to do with her foes wanting her alive and therefore concentrating on taking out her companions. Instead of dwelling on that reality though, she collected the unspent smoke canisters off the bodies and put them in her pack. Misery wasn't one to hesitate in picking up useful skills and techniques from others, and she'd been impressed at how the assassins used smokescreens to tip the balance in their favor rather than just going toe-to-toe with their enemies. If she made it through this she'd give a couple to her friend Tomwise to reverse engineer so he could make more.

After finishing her looting, Misery saw that Anders and Bethany were still working on healing Aveline and Merrill, while Varric had gone off to the side and sat down against a wall. The dwarf was holding a now empty potion flask, staring at the ground in front of him with a blank expression.

Misery strode over to the main group and told them to maintain awareness for anyone approaching, but to take a fifteen minute break once they were done giving or receiving healing. Next she glanced across the room to where Varric was sitting, the glance becoming a stare as she thought about what to do.

She didn't want to deal with this right now. Part of it was her impatience to get on with the mission. Another part of it was a reluctance to invest the mental energy that would be better spent trying to keep them alive. But there was also the part of not wanting to acknowledge her guilt. She'd killed his best friend in rather brutal fashion, and before that questioned his loyalties.

She had seen in his eyes the sting the latter left before he'd turned away to face Gerav. And while even now she didn't understand why he sided against his friend, what she _did_ understand was that he was hurting because of her. So what _could _she say?

Misery frowned as Varric continued to stare blankly at the ground, his mind clearly elsewhere. She knew she needed to take it upon herself to get him refocused, and decided that the sooner he took his anger out on her the sooner he was going to pull together enough to concentrate on the task at hand. Later, in a less hostile environment, she planned to speak with him about what happened in greater depth.

Taking a deep breath, she strode across the room, sliding down the wall to sit next to him. Then she waited in silence for him to let her have it.

Varric refused to show his surprise that Hawke had sat down not only next to him, but close enough that they were in physical contact, with his right shoulder pressed against the taller woman's left arm. He didn't know what she was doing, but he was still livid with her and didn't really care why she was here.

"Go away…" he growled.

Misery said nothing in reply, nor made any move to get up.

The lack of response only further irritated the dwarf. "I mean it, Hawke, get away from me. I don't want to talk to you right now."

When Misery still gave no verbal or physical response, he huffed. "Andraste's ass! What's wrong with you?" he asked, his tone mixed of bewilderment and fury. "I don't know what your game is, but I'm _not _in the mood for it. I swear if you don't either get to the point or get away from me, I'm going to scream."

The ongoing silence from the girl and confusion over what she was trying to accomplish wasn't helping to calm his nerves. He was also sick of having to guess at what was going on in the non-communicative rogue's head, both now and in general.

"Alright," she finally said in almost a whisper.

"Alright _what_?"

"Scream at me…"

Varric turned his head and glared angrily. Misery's head wasn't turned in his direction and her eyes were looking everywhere _except _at him. His mouth opened and the scathing words he wanted to throw at her were already on the tip of his tongue. Then he realized what she was trying to do and stopped himself, his eyebrows furrowing even further.

"Whatever," he grumbled. "You know damned well all screaming is going to accomplish is bringing more Carta our way. So just leave me alone."

Misery didn't reply or move. Once again if he didn't know better he'd have assumed she didn't hear him. But he did know. So when she didn't indicate she was going to say anything further, he growled and stood up.

"I don't know what to say…" she said softly before he got more than a few steps away.

Varric turned back around to face her. Misery still wasn't looking at him, but he could see the conflict bubbling through her mask of neutral indifference. He scoffed.

"I suppose _sorry_ doesn't quite cut it, does it?"

"It wouldn't be the truth either…"

Varric shook his head. "Unbelievable… maybe you should just go back to not talking. At least then the rest of us would have an easier time pretending you give a shit about us."

Misery's eyes finally flicked upwards to meet his. "I do care," she said softly. "You know I'm at my wit's end over Bethany. Look, I killed your best friend, I know that. But I can't be sorry for doing so when he left no alternative. I don't… I just don't know what I'm supposed to do here."

"You want to know what to do?" Varric asked bitterly. "Step up. Step up and be what you took away from me… my best friend."

He didn't wait for her to reply, spinning on his heels and storming away.

Misery frowned at the thought that she felt… relieved? She didn't know what she was supposed to feel though. She had mixed emotions about the whole situation.

Misery still didn't know what to make of Varric siding with her over Gerav. Sure, they were friends too, but Varric's history with Gerav went back much further. While lamenting his death afterwards, Varric told them the story of how it was Gerav who had designed and built Bianca for Varric, that it was Gerav's only repeating crossbow that ever fully worked. And Misery knew just how obsessive Varric was about Bianca. At times the crossbow seemed more like a girlfriend than a weapon.

So she didn't understand why Varric cut his best friend loose. Was it a calculated business decision, a result of needing Misery's help with the expedition? If so, did that mean he'd do the same to her in the future if she potentially stood in the way of a lucrative business opportunity? Or was it simple self-preservation, realizing that siding with Gerav against her and the others was probably going to be suicidal? He wouldn't be the first or the last to choose a team based entirely on the odds of winning.

Or… was it that he genuinely chose _her_? She realized that she hoped he did. But if that was the case, why? Had she become enough of a friend for Varric to even have been faced with a real choice? She didn't think so. And that thought carried a pang of guilt in its wake that she was thankful was quickly lost among the other swirling emotions.

Misery shook her head, forcing herself back to the present reality. They'd wasted enough time recovering after the last skirmish, and now it was time to get back on track. She rose from her spot and strode towards the far side of the room.

"Time to move," she barked to the others while readying both her bow and her resolve.

-==0==-

Anders leaned forward against his staff, using it to prop up his weary body while attempting to catch his breath. "Think there's even going to be a Carta left by the time we're done?" he groused, drawing disgruntled murmurs from a few of the others.

The group had fought one wave after another in the last hour, with little break in between. The lack of downtime from fighting was partly a result of the quantity of dwarves in this lower level of the tower, and partly the relentless push of Misery. The rogue was taking increasingly risky actions, aggressively taking the battle to the Carta. To her companions it seemed like she was trying to rush ahead and win each skirmish single-handedly, even though it wasn't working out that way.

Bethany clapped her hand down on her sister's shoulder, the shoulder she just cast a healing spell on. Misery's left eye twitched, but that was the only indication of discomfort she gave. She started to turn away, but Bethany didn't let her.

"You have to slow down," Bethany said softly. "The rest of us can't keep up your pace and you're going to get yourself killed."

Misery shook her head. "You can feel it, can't you? _Something_ is close."

"Yeah…" the mage admitted, sighing. "It is like an itch I can't scratch covering my entire body. I was hoping that… that you didn't feel it too."

"It's our blood reacting, isn't it?"

Bethany frowned before nodding slowly. "Sometimes I forget just how sensitive to magic you are." She gestured towards a doorway upstairs on the second floor of this large room. "How long have you been able to feel whatever is up there? Is that why you've been so hostile towards everyone, including those on your side?"

Misery closed her eyes briefly. "You have my word… I will explain everything once we are done and away from this place. For now I just need you to follow my lead and trust that I know what I'm doing."

Bethany searched her sister's eyes hoping for some indication as to what was going on behind her mask of reticence. Finding nothing revealed, she sighed. "I love you. You know that, right? Don't feel like you have to do this alone."

The thinnest of smiles crept across Misery's face. "Thank you," she whispered before pulling away and moving to ascend the stone stairs leading up to the second level of the room.

The others watched the rogue climb the stairs. A few of them exchanged glances, confirming they all thought the same thing.

"Hey, Hawke," Varric called out. "Take a seat. The rest of us need some more time before moving on."

When Misery kept going down the hall towards the next room without replying, Bethany took off running after her, intent on doing anything she could to stop her from proceeding on her own.

"Dammit, Hawke!" Aveline shouted, dragging herself to her feet and starting in pursuit. She was trying to keep her promise to stay close to Bethany.

Misery had barely gotten close enough to see into the other room when she froze in her tracks. The color drained out of her complexion almost immediately at the sight in front of her. It was the room. The room from her dream. The room where Bethany died. She'd been to the point of paranoia about running into it, but now that she had, her mind was racing in an attempt to put a plan together.

"What's wrong?" Bethany asked, coming up behind her.

"Stay back!" Misery hissed, not taking her eyes off the other side of the door.

Her body was still, but her eyes were darting wildly while taking in and processing every last detail of the room. At the far side was a dwarf doing something with a massive bronto, his back turned to them. Up on a platform above the man was a quartet of archers lingering about. Misery could see a ramp at the right side of the room leading up to that second level, though she couldn't see the top of it with the doorframe blocking the view. But if her dream was anywhere near accurate there were at least four more archers up there that she couldn't see from her current position.

The middle of the room was wide open, which set off warnings in Misery's head when taken in conjunction with having archers posted instead of the hand-to-hand oriented battleaxe and dagger wielders they'd faced for the most part. Her eyes continued to search until they finally locked on to what she was looking for.

A lever that seemed to have no purpose sticking out of the floor confirmed her suspicion that the middle of the room was trapped. Studying the layout, she couldn't see how the payload could come from above or the side. That left the floor. From this distance she couldn't tell if there were grates or slots in the stone that would give her a visual indication of what to avoid, but the thought came to mind that the payload must be quite severe if they put it on a manual trigger to ensure it couldn't be set off accidentally.

The rest of the group caught up while Misery was evaluating the situation. Varric noted his fellow rogue's expression and more pale than usual complexion. He wasn't any happier with her now than he was earlier, but the way she looked set off his own warning bells.

"Misery?" he said. "Is this where it happens?"

"Where what happens?" Bethany immediately asked.

Misery flashed a hard glare at the dwarf, using her eyes to tell him to shut up as she nodded curtly.

Aveline sighed in exasperation and pushed her way past Misery, entering the room. When Misery turned to make sure Bethany didn't attempt to go through next, Anders passed by her and followed the guard-captain in.

Misery picked up a battleaxe off the ground and moved to stand just inside the doorway, blocking the way in.

"What's the plan here?" Varric asked. His concern for both Hawkes overrode all anger with Misery at this point.

The raven haired rogue took a deep breath before glancing back. "The plan…" she started while hoisting the battleaxe, "is to ask my sister to forgive me."

With that she swung the axe in a hard chop. It threw sparks when it collided with a chain connected to a hand crank, snapping the link right at the base of the crank. As soon as that happened, the iron gate that had been previously held in place above the open doorway fell, crashing to the ground with a loud noise and effectively locking out Bethany, Varric, and Merrill.

"What are you doing?" Bethany asked incredulously, grasping the iron bars and attempting unsuccessfully to get the gate to budge.

Misery didn't reply and didn't look back, ignoring the shouts of her sister and Varric.

"Keep to the edges of the room!" she said sharply to Aveline and Anders, both of whom were staring at her in disbelief. "The middle of the room is trapped."

The dwarf tending the bronto finally turned around, chuckling at the trio coming his way. He'd heard the fighting in the other room earlier and the commotion just now, and could sense the Hawkes through their blood. So he already knew they were here. However, he was still confident that if nothing else the grunts he'd left out there as fodder would have more than softened them up enough for his men here. And of course for Wanka, his prized war mount.

"Hawke," the dwarf said while approaching casually, "they told me you were going to be trouble."

Misery ignored both his words and the continued shouts coming from Varric and Bethany behind the gate.

The dwarf continued monologuing. "Nice of both of you to come. I swore to Corypheus we'd bring him Malcolm Hawke's blood. One way or the other."

"Rhatigan, I presume?" Misery stated. "Where can I find Corypheus?"

"You don't get to see the Master! You only get to spill your blood for him!"

Rhatigan raised his arms in the air and looked up. It would almost appear to be worshipping to the sky if not for the fact they were hundreds of feet below the surface.

"Corypheus!" Rhatigan shouted out reverently, "We have done as you command! Your sacrifice is here! You will see the surf-"

The dwarf's words were cut off when the knife Misery threw hit him just under the chin and stuck. She had little time to celebrate her first ever successful use of that technique against a live opponent, because the large bronto snorted and roared, and then charged.

The charge sent the trio of humans scattering, with Misery diving to the right, Aveline to the left, and Anders scooting back towards to the door they came from. He ducked behind a wooden column and after sparing a glance at Varric, Bethany, and Merrill struggling in futility with the iron gate, began angrily casting spells to augment his _two _companions' abilities.

Misery popped to her feet and grabbed an incendiary grenade from her pouch, swiftly uncorking it at the group of archers up and to her right. It hit the railing in front of a pair of them and shattered. The flash and flame ignited one and partially blinded the other. Before the bronto could get turned back around, she raced to the trap lever, being careful to stay close to the walls.

By the time she got to the lever she could hear the heavy stomps of the bronto coming in her direction. She stole a glimpse just long enough to see that neither Aveline nor Anders were out in the open and then threw the lever. A series of spring loaded saw blades sprung from the floor. They were big, heavy duty blades, the kind used for cutting large trees into timber for building.

To the rogue's delight, the bronto was caught right in the middle. The beast never had a chance, being gruesomely shredded by the blades that threw flesh, blood, bone, and leather all about. Misery drew her bow while noting that Aveline had raced up the ramp to get the archers into melee range.

Misery left the trap activated and ran towards the ramp as well. She stopped and fired on one archer, taking him down, but before she could do anything else an arrow slammed into her lower back. It knocked her forward and caused her to seize up in pain, and a follow up shot hit her in the lower right hamstring and took her leg out from under her.

She tried to stand, but another arrow connected with her right boot, punching through the leather and passing through her foot before exiting the bottom of the boot. She screamed as she fell forward on her face. When yet another shot hit her back, the pain took her breath. Misery could hear the screams from her sister growing faint as she stopped struggling to move.

-==0==-

Misery awoke face down to the sounds of angry mutterings coming from nearby. She tried to turn in the direction of the voices, but almost immediately regretted that decision when her back painfully reminded her of her previous folly. The sharp gasp and then groan that escaped her lips silenced the voices for a moment as their attentions were turned back towards her.

"Don't get up, I'm not done with you yet," Anders said irritably before casting another healing spell on her.

When Misery dragged herself up on to her forearms anyway in preparation of trying to stand, Aveline practically stomped on the rogue's back with her plated boot to knock her back down.

"That was an _order_, Hawke," the guard-captain growled, "not a suggestion." She took no pleasure from the obvious pain her action inflicted on Misery, but she also felt no sympathy under the circumstances.

Bethany knelt down beside her sister. "Anders saved your life, Sister. The least you can do is follow his instructions."

Anders scoffed. "You kept her alive long enough for Aveline and me to get through fighting. Though it would've been much easier without half our group stuck in the other room."

"Bethany…" Misery said softly while reaching out and taking the younger girl's hand. "Are you alright? Were you harmed?"

Bethany's mouth dropped open in shock and she pulled away. "What? Why are you asking _me_ about being harmed?" she demanded, her voice rising in anger. "_You _are the one that seems intent on dying!"

The female mage stood up and began to pace back and forth. "If I thought I could get away with it, I'd make _you _stay behind while the rest of us go after Corypheus!" The bitterness in her tone was clear.

Merrill, who had been making a point of _not _looking at Misery, frowned when something related to Bethany's pacing caught her attention.

"Bethany?" she asked while standing up. When the other mage looked over, she gestured to Rhatigan's body and continued, "The hilt on that dwarf's dagger starts glowing whenever you get close to it."

Bethany glanced over towards the dwarf, frowning as the faint glow grew brighter as she approached.

Misery's eyes opened wide in fear. "Bethany! No!" she shouted as the girl grasped the hilt and unsheathed the blade.

The rogue was already attempting to stand once again when both she and her sister seized up.

Bethany screamed.

"It-it's… m-my blood, it's on f-fire!" Misery grunted out.

She tried to block it out, to fight through the agony and get to her sister. Just when she thought she was going to pass out again, the glow faded and the pain subsided, leaving in its wake a tingling feeling throughout her body that she'd never felt before.

Misery stood, blinking in surprise at the realization that _all _of her pain was gone. She twisted her torso and shook her legs, amazed that it was as if she'd never been injured. She could practically feel the blood pumping throughout her body. Her nerve endings were aflame not in pain, but with sensations of heightened awareness and more. She felt so alive, abuzz with… _power_.

She stared curiously at her sister, the quizzical expression on her face asking the question she didn't give voice to.

Bethany nodded. "Blood magic… I think this dagger is the key tuned to Father's blood that the journal mentioned."

"Maker's breath…" Misery whispered almost in awe. _If this is the feeling of blood magic, no wonder it's so addicting._ Her eyes involuntarily flicked briefly over to Merrill before settling back on Bethany.

"Kind of intoxicating, isn't it?" Bethany asked.

Aveline flashed a look of concern. "What are you two talking about? What just happened?"

Bethany tugged on a strand of hair while thinking how to explain. "I thought we were looking for a key in the traditional sense, but apparently not." She held the dagger aloft. "Our blood reacted strongly to the magic bound in this. Now we have to figure out what we're supposed to do with this thing."

"Are you two alright? You were clearly in pain before."

Bethany nodded. "It _was_ painful at first, but then… it's hard to explain. I suppose the way it feels… is like… mmm… the afterglow of sex, except multiplied many times over." She blushed slightly.

"Ugh… didn't need to hear that from my little sister," Misery complained, shaking her head. "I would liken it to a combination of Anders' aura and haste spells, except even more potent. I feel like I could take on anything."

"So in other words," Varric began sarcastically, "you feel normal."

Ignoring the barb, Misery said, "Whatever that magic did to us, if nothing else it took care of my injuries. I have never felt better."

Anders' eyes narrowed as he glared at Misery. "_Blood _magic, you mean. Are you going to be a problem?"

Misery realized the point of his question and also that he was taking the opportunity to throw her own words from earlier back in her face. Instead of giving him the satisfaction of getting under her skin, however, she forced a seemingly indifferent shrug.

"When am I _not _a problem?" she retorted in her own sarcastic tone, saving one of the others the trouble of making the same remark. She then turned to continue on her way towards the hallway leading out of this chamber.

Aveline growled. "Not. Another. Step. Hawke!" When Misery stopped and glanced back, the guard-captain continued, "We're not going _anywhere_ until you explain that shit you pulled." She gestured back towards the doorway they'd entered from. "It took all five of us to lift that damned gate enough to wedge a barrel in there!"

Misery sighed, her shoulders slumping forward slightly. "If I promise to tell you what's been going on with me after we're done with Corypheus, will you drop the subject for now?"

"No." Aveline folded her arms across her chest, waiting for an answer.

"If I promise that you won't have to worry about it happening again?"

"No! We're not negotiating this, Hawke. Start talking!"

Bethany stood next to the warrior. "I agree. Sister, you have been… _impossible_ all day."

Despite the seriousness of the situation, knowing that backing Misery into a corner was almost always a terrible idea, and his own frustration with her, Varric couldn't help but chuckle at how this was playing out. His amusement drew a disapproving look from Misery, but at the moment he didn't care.

"Come on, Hawke. You know it's that bad when even Daisy wants to slap you."

The elf didn't confirm or deny the charge, though her less than friendly expression made it rather clear she didn't really disagree with the dwarf.

Misery sighed in exasperation while resting her forehead in the palm of her hand. "Varric, I don't want to do this. Not yet. We need to get out of this room, _now. _Since it's everyone against me, I need you to tell them to wait until we're done."

"Sorry, you're on your own here," he said. He sighed before bitterly adding, "Just the way you like it."

Misery opened her mouth to retort, but closed it. Varric was obviously still sore about earlier and there wasn't anything she felt she could do about it right now.

Bethany shook her head. "You are mistaken, Sister. None of us are against you. Let us help, tell us what's going on."

Misery gritted her teeth and clenched her fists. "You were supposed to die!" she exclaimed. "Here! In _this_ fucking room! This entire day has been about preventing that from happening! About keeping _you _alive!"

Bethany's eyes grew wide. "What are you talking about?"

Anders huffed. "And if you knew something like that, why didn't you just have her stay with your mother instead of coming out here? It would have saved trying to leave most of us at camp."

Misery shook her head. "I didn't know! Now come on, we're leaving this room. If you want the rest of the story, you're going to have to follow." With that she spun and headed for the next door.

The others exchanged glances, but quickly followed behind her.

When she reached the doorway, she spotted a dwarf at the top of a set of stairs a short distance away.

"More Carta!" she shouted and began running after the dwarf while drawing her daggers. She heard her sister shout for her to wait, but she ignored it and bounded down the stairs, catching the dwarf from behind and burying her daggers in his neck.

When she turned around to face her companions, who were just catching up, she noticed a yellow shimmering field forming a barrier across the stairs they'd just descended. She ran back over and tentatively reached out to touch the barrier, surprised when her hand stopped just as if touching a solid wall.

Bethany rapped her staff against it. "We're not going back that way," she said, sighing.

"There has to be another exit," Misery said quickly. "We'll find it after dealing with Corypheus."

Anders frowned as he looked off in the distance. "I'll tell you one thing we did find… the Deep Roads."

The others turned to see what he was looking at. A bridge off in the distance crossed a chasm, and darkspawn could be seen scurrying around.

"_Great_…" Varric muttered. "And people wonder why this dwarf prefers the surface."

"What now?" Merrill asked. She was only partially succeeding in hiding her trepidation.

Aveline began to remove her pack. "We break for food and drink. I'm famished. And besides, I'm _sure_ Hawke wasn't planning on trying to get out of telling the rest of her story."

Misery sighed deeply but nodded in resignation. While the group dug into their rations, she told them about having the dream of Bethany dying, leaving out the extra details about her parents and Carver.

"Wait a minute…" Aveline said, interrupting the rogue. "Last night when I woke you for watch…"

Misery nodded solemnly. "Yeah…"

"Maker's breath, Hawke…" Aveline said with a heavy sigh. "Why didn't you just tell us?"

"Especially when you ended up having to bring Bethany into the tower anyway," Anders added.

"I couldn't have her fighting scared," Misery said. "I worried that she wouldn't be able to concentrate with that hanging over her head."

"I am _not _a child!" Bethany exclaimed, stomping her foot. "I'm as capable as anyone here! Stop being so… so… _overprotective_!"

Misery glared at her sister. "Even if protecting you wasn't my sworn duty, there is _nothing_ more precious to me than you. I hate putting you in harm's way at all, and that it happens so often should tell you how capable I think you are. But I damned well won't apologize for trying to keep you alive."

Bethany's gaze fell to the floor under the weight of her older sister's glare. "I don't know whether to hug you or slug you for that," she said quietly, the prior defiance extinguished from her tone. "Sister. I can't live my life hiding behind you while you take the risks. You have to let me share the burden."

Misery didn't answer, instead falling into thought. She thought of the pamphlet Anders found about the dwarves digging Corypheus out of his Deep Roads prison. With the Deep Roads in sight, she hoped that meant the end of this was in sight as well.


	25. Doubt

"Stay alert," Anders warned in a low voice. "There are darkspawn nearby. Quite a few of them." He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end in response to the familiar yet unwelcome tickling of his senses.

Misery peered back the way they'd come from, then towards the closed door in front of them. She raised an eyebrow curiously. "How do you know that? I don't see anything."

"I don't need to see them. Grey Wardens can sense the presence of both darkspawn and other wardens."

Varric chuckled. "A built-in darkspawn sniffer? Yeah, you're definitely coming on the expedition with us."

"Didn't you say that you were no longer a Grey Warden?" Aveline asked.

Anders scowled. "Yes, well, unfortunately you don't get return the lovely welcome gift they give you for joining. It's rather permanent."

"I think I would have asked for a fruit basket instead," Merrill said.

"A fruit basket… would have been nice actually," Anders replied, nodding slowly in agreement. "In any case, be on your guard."

Misery frowned as she stared at the door. _Darkspawn…_ Even having seen the foul creatures scurrying off in the distance from an earlier vantage point, the knowledge they were about to be face to face with them again triggered unpleasant memories of Ostagar and the flight from Lothering.

She stole a quick glimpse of Aveline, and judging from the ginger haired warrior's expression her mind had gone to the same place. From there Misery took inventory of the rest of her companions. Bethany appeared nervous but determined. Anders' expression was grim, perhaps even a little melancholy, but without a trace of fear. That impressed the rogue.

Misery's eyes drifted over to the two that had never faced darkspawn before. Varric seemed antsy, as if he just wanted to get on with it. Merrill… the elf was trying to hide it, but Misery could tell from her body language that she was terrified.

Misery put away her bow in favor of daggers. In her right hand was the elven blade she claimed from the shadow warrior atop Sundermount. In her left was the so-called _key _obtained a few hours earlier. She steeled herself in anticipation of the conflict to come.

"Do not be intimidated by their appearances," she said evenly. "Fighting darkspawn is no different than what we've been doing. They have archers, swordarms, and whatever else. Ignore what they look like and focus on the specific threat each represents. They die just like anything else."

Aveline nodded. "From what we've seen, darkspawn have little individual skill. They generally rely on numbers to swarm and overwhelm their foes. You mages should be prepared to use spells that target areas rather than individuals. I'll try to stay out of your way, though I can't promise Hawke here will do the same."

"I'm sure any friendly fire she gets hit with will be purely accidental," Varric remarked dryly.

While Misery merely rolled her eyes in response, Bethany backhanded the dwarf in the shoulder. "Don't even joke about that."

"Relax, Sunshine, she knows I don't mean it… mostly."

The mage opened her mouth to retort, but Misery cut her off. "Focus!" she demanded, her eyes darting back and forth between Bethany and Varric. "We don't have the luxury of getting taken by surprise." In a quieter voice she added, "And I am stretched thin enough as it is. I can't be on top of my game if I'm worried you two aren't on top of yours."

She turned away without waiting for a response and reached for the door handle, leaving Bethany and Varric to exchange curious glances about her impromptu confession. They both hoped it was a good sign that she'd been a bit more open since being forced to come clean about what had been bothering her all day.

To Misery's surprise, the door was locked. She shook the handle in frustration before letting go of it and stepping back.

Varric sighed. "Give me a minute, I can pick-"

He didn't get to finish his sentence before Misery launched herself forward and kicked. The bottom of her foot connected right above the handle, the force behind it tearing the locking bolt from the rotting doorframe, nearly ripping the hinges from the frame as well as the door flew open and slammed against the interior wall. The noise echoed throughout the hall.

"…or there's always that…" Varric concluded.

The commotion drew the attention of the locals, and the group was barely into the lengthy hall before a variety of darkspawn were rushing towards them.

Misery felt the heat from a ball of flame roaring past her on its way towards the lead hurlock charging them and the trio of genlocks at its heels. The explosion blew all four darkspawn from their feet and enabled Misery and Aveline to quickly clean up before they could recover.

Arrows whistled past Aveline's head as she ran to intercept the next wave. "Archers!" she shouted.

"On it!" Varric shouted back while moving to the edge of the room in order to see around the clashing of blades in front of him.

The downside to being a dwarf in battle was that his line of sight was easily blocked, forcing him and Bianca to move around quite a bit to get clear shots. Sometimes it irritated him that Misery could stand behind him and fire arrows directly over his head without having to worry about hitting him. Such was life when the top of his head only came up to her chest.

The upside to being a dwarf in battle was that the enemy focus tended to be drawn to the taller, more visible companions. At times Varric felt a bit like a ghost on the battlefield. Not that he was complaining about that.

Firing on the archers this time, however, drew the attention of a pair of genlocks, who broke off from the main group and rushed the dwarf. Varric turned and pumped a triplet of bolts into one of them, knocking it back and down. The other got to him while he was in the process of reloading Bianca's firing chamber.

Varric ducked the incoming axe blade and engaged the retractable bayonet on the crossbow, spearing the genlock and then kicking it away. Before he could do anything else though, two more genlocks came at him. One seized hold of Bianca in an attempt to wrestle her away. While struggling to hold on, Varric couldn't avoid the other genlock's attack and the slash of its curved short sword tore through the arm of his duster and claimed flesh. Varric let loose a string of expletives, and with one arm weakened he lost his grip on Bianca.

His dismay was interrupted when the severed head of the genlock that had cut him hit him in the chest and then rebounded off to hit the floor. The body fell alongside it while Aveline spun back the other direction to intercept another threat.

Varric lunged at the genlock that now had Bianca in its possession, barely avoiding another incoming blade in the process. The genlock was quick, however, and avoided the dwarf's attempted tackle. Varric rolled to the side and braced for an expected follow up from the hurlock that swung at him moments earlier, but it never came. As the beast was winding up, a series of stabs riddled its torso and dropped it.

Misery leapt over the dead hurlock and brought both daggers to bear on the genlock holding Bianca. She got the genlock, but took an arrow in the side in the process and fell sprawling. Another hurlock moved towards the rogue with its massive two-handed sword, intent on claiming her head in her moment of near complete vulnerability.

Varric didn't hesitate. He threw himself over the top of his fellow rogue, and the next thing he knew a silverite Dar'Misu with his hand wrapped around the hilt was in the hurlock's throat. He withdrew the blade in anticipation of meeting another threat, only to find none. The last of the darkspawn had just fallen to his companions.

He glanced to his left at the sound of a loud grunt coming from Misery, seeing her angrily cast aside the arrow she'd been hit with. Almost reflexively he dug a healing potion from his pack and handed it to her. She nodded in thanks.

"Seems you do remember how to use a dagger," Misery remarked between gulps.

Varric stared down at the bloodied blade still in his hand. "Yeah, seems that way…" he mumbled absentmindedly before moving to retrieve Bianca.

Misery shook her head when Varric started apologizing to the crossbow, but opted not to comment on it. Instead she gestured for Bethany.

"Varric needs a healing spell."

Bethany started to cast but stopped herself. "Actually… Merrill, I want you to try it."

"Me?" the elf asked in surprise.

"You can do this," Bethany said. "Just remember what I taught you."

When Merrill frowned skeptically, Bethany smiled in encouragement. "Look at it this way. There is no pressure right now. We're not under attack, and even if you can't fully heal Varric's wound, Anders and I are here to help. You're only going to get better at healing magic if you practice it."

"Of course, you are right…" Merrill replied. Not that she needed to, but she moved closer to the dwarf and put her hand on his shoulder. Smiling tentatively at him, she said, "It will be alright, I can do this."

Varric wasn't sure if she was encouraging him or herself, and he wasn't exactly comfortable with being experimented or practiced on or whatever, but he was smart enough not to give the elf a negative reaction. He forced a brief chuckle. "Nothing to it, Daisy. Take your time."

The elven mage's brow furrowed in concentration. It took a few moments, but Varric began to feel a pleasant tingling. The sensation didn't last very long and his arm was still sore after it went away, but there was noticeable improvement at least.

He grinned at the hopeful expression on the girl's face. "The arm isn't perfect, but it's better than it was. Nicely done."

Merrill beamed in pride, causing Varric to chuckle genuinely this time. He understood her personality though. She had an almost desperate need to feel useful, yet too often feared she wasn't. Being able to contribute in such a directly beneficial way would go a long way towards boosting her confidence.

Misery approached and nodded her own approval before holding out a shortbow to the elf. While the mages had been focused on Varric, Aveline and Misery had been looting.

"If you're still serious about taking up archery," the rogue explained, "I think this bow will be perfect for you. The quality is better than almost anything we'd find over the counter from a Kirkwall merchant."

"And you can't beat the price," Varric noted.

"Looks Tevinter," Anders remarked. When the others looked at him, he added, "I mean, I don't know anything about bows, but the carvings, sharp curves, and sharper points are similar to Tevinter staves I've seen in books."

Varric smirked. "I suppose using black walnut is keeping with the whole 'Black City' theme they've got going as well. Daisy, you'll scare the piss out of people just carrying that thing around with you, whether you actually know how to use it or not."

"All that's missing is the standoffish Dalish attitude to go with it," Aveline said.

Merrill ignored the jibe at her people. Even surrounded by dead darkspawn she was too happy with how the last several minutes had gone to let the remark bother her. Misery hadn't mentioned teaching her archery since the first time they discussed it, and Merrill hadn't wanted to pester her by bringing the subject up again. So she was ecstatic that Misery not only remembered, but had even thought to find her a good bow. That knowledge caused the last of her lingering frustration with Misery to dissipate.

As the group collected themselves and began moving on, Varric realized that Misery intentionally didn't give the elf a quiver of arrows to go with it. _Good thinking… Don't give her a chance to get any crazy ideas in her head while we're down here._

-==0==-

"Check this out," Misery said, gesturing towards a massive metal disc sitting on a pedestal. It looked to be a piece of art and was easily ten feet in diameter. The image of a griffon standing behind a goblet was emblazoned on the disc. Of bigger interest, however, was a circular swirl of glowing blood red light that seemingly hovered on the surface, almost as if it was supposed to represent the contents of the engraved goblet.

"I wonder what that's about?" Bethany asked no one in particular.

Anders scratched at the stubble on his cheek. "The griffon is the symbol of the Grey Wardens, and the swirling red glow on the chalice represents the Joining ritual."

Misery reached out curiously to touch the orb of light, blinking in surprise when it extinguished at her touch. "Ummm…" She turned to Anders.

"Don't ask me what you just did." He shook his head. "No idea."

With no apparent effect from her action, the rogue shrugged her shoulders and gestured for them to move on.

Not long afterwards they came across a similar marker featuring the griffon and chalice.

Misery frowned before looking over at Anders. "Do you want me to touch it?"

He snorted. "Oh, if only Isabela was here to comment on that."

Misery ran her fingers through her hair, sighing in exasperation. "I'd be more inclined to cut it off."

Bethany shook her head at the former Grey Warden who was mock wincing before turning her attention back to the pedestal. "Maybe these unlock something elsewhere? A vault perhaps? I read about that sort of thing in a book once."

"Oooh… Grey Warden loot!" Varric exclaimed, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. "Let's do it."

When no one voiced an objection, Misery reached out to the swirling glow, watching as this one extinguished at her touch just as the other had.

They moved further down the hall until a shimmering barrier came into view. The barrier had three of the swirling red orbs of light floating on the surface, though only the center one glowed. The two on either side of the center one were dimmed, appearing to have already been extinguished.

As they got closer, they could see that the barrier formed a transparent wall stretched across a small room otherwise completely enclosed by stone, and the purpose of it was made clear by the room's inhabitant - contained within was a demon. The barrier was a microcosm of the floor they were on, a prison within a prison.

"Great…" Varric muttered. "Another one of those geth things."

"How about we leave it alone?" Aveline suggested. "You know, this time without being stupid and throwing anything at it?"

"What do you think it is doing here?" Merrill asked.

Just then a disembodied voice reverberated throughout the chamber. Misery and Bethany both gasped in unison almost as soon as the deep baritone voice began to speak in its grave tone.

"…_be bound here for eternity - hunger stilled, rage smothered, desire dampened, pride crushed. In the name of the Maker, so let it be."_

"F-father!" Misery choked out.

"How can that be?" Bethany asked.

Merrill was confused. "That voice… was your father?"

"Yes…" Misery whispered hoarsely. She knew her father wasn't actually here, but unexpectedly hearing his voice again after so many years left her struggling to keep her emotions in check.

Aveline frowned. "What do you think he meant? It sounded like he was commanding something."

"Be bound here for eternity…" Anders repeated. "Sounds like he bound this demon."

"Do you think _that _thing is Corypheus?" Bethany wondered.

Varric shook his head. "No way we're that lucky. Blondie, you hearing any music?"

"No… I can't see this being Corypheus."

"Sister?" Bethany asked. "Are you going to be alright?" It was obvious that Misery was still rattled.

The rogue sighed deeply before nodding. Gesturing to the barrier, she said, "I'm guessing that the two inactive orbs correspond to the two I touched earlier."

Anders nodded in agreement. "I don't know if this remaining one alone is enough to keep that demon imprisoned. We should probably just drop the barrier and kill the thing to be sure."

"What is it with you and releasing demons?" Aveline groused.

"I agree with him," Bethany said softly. "It would be irresponsible of us to leave a weakened barrier and possibly let it escape."

"Fine…" Aveline grumbled while moving out of the way. "Bethany, Anders, Merrill, and Varric - form a line and get ready to unload on the demon as soon as Hawke drops the barrier and gets her ass out of the way."

"On the count of three…" Misery said after everyone moved into position. She glanced back to confirm they were ready, then reached out to the remaining orb. "One… two… _three!_"

The glow snuffed out and a loud _whoosh_ accompanied the barrier dissolving. Misery darted out of the way and almost immediately the small prison was bombarded with fire, lightning, and a storm of arrows. The demon fell under the onslaught, but not before summoning a quartet of lesser shades.

"Not this time!" Aveline shouted, recounting the time atop Sundermount where they'd been caught off guard by the sudden appearance of shades. The guard-captain bashed the one closest to her with her shield, knocking it back and then using the separation to run it through before it could recover.

Misery followed Aveline as she moved on to the next shade, then split off to take on one of her own. She ducked a swipe of its heavy claw and rammed both daggers into its side, using her weight to rip downwards through its flesh. The shade roared while attempting to shed its attacker, but a pair of bolts from Bianca put an end to its struggles.

The mages made quick work of the remaining shade while Misery helped Aveline finish off hers. After they finished the voice of Malcolm Hawke boomed loudly once more.

"_I can do nothing about the Wardens' use of demons in this horrid place. But I will have no one say any magic of mine ever released one into the world…"_

Misery and Bethany's eyes went distant at the sound of their father's voice. It was clear to the others that Misery was the more affected of the two, and they exchanged uncertain glances.

"Misery?" Merrill said after several long moments of silence.

The rogue glanced over at the sound of her name and sighed deeply. "Alright, let's go…"

Bethany stepped in front of her sister. "Do you need a minute? I don't think your head is here right now."

"I'm fine."

"Sister… I don't think you believe that either."

It was Varric's turn to sigh. Under different circumstances he would have been much more sympathetic than he was feeling at the moment. It wasn't that he was _un_sympathetic. Rather it was that Gerav was too fresh in his mind, those emotions too raw. And he was having a hard enough time not resenting Misery for being too focused on herself to recognize that her being the one that killed Gerav was actually the least important part of how that entire scene played out.

Still, practicality was winning out. Varric knew they needed a focused Misery, and he also knew that she wasn't going to admit to needing a pause to collect herself. So he'd just have to manipulate the situation to make it happen without her realizing it.

"Blondie, we heard Papa Hawke say something about the Wardens' use of demons. That a common practice? Are we going to run into more of them?"

Anders shrugged. "Like I said before, the Grey Wardens like their secrets, even among themselves. It sounded to me like he disapproved of whatever they were doing here, but I have no idea if binding this demon was helping or hindering that effort."

"I would think he was helping," Merrill said. "Otherwise, why not kill the demon? Or use magic to force it back into the Beyond? Binding a creature indefinitely is a cruel fate to inflict."

Bethany huffed. "Right, Maker forbid someone imprison a _demon_," she replied. "And what makes you think he could have sent it back?"

"I-I… I am sorry. Sometimes I forget that my people pass down knowledge of ancient magic that your circles either do not know or do not teach."

Anders threw his hands up in the air in annoyance. "Yes, Merrill, we all know how superior the Dalish are in every way to us shems."

The elf stared at her feet, shifting uncomfortably. "I have never claimed to be better than anyone," she said quietly.

"Enough bickering," Misery stated, flashing a glare at all three mages before her eyes settled on Merrill. "My father was a good mage, and an even better man. I trust that whatever he did in this place was for good reason."

Merrill didn't say anything in response. Instead she merely glanced upwards into the rogue's eyes and nodded briefly. It was a gesture that didn't express agreement or disagreement with the statement, only that she understood what she perceived to be the underlying point being made. Don't question Malcolm Hawke.

"Let's get going," Varric said. "Doesn't sound like we'll learn anything else standing around speculating."

"Agreed," Misery replied, motioning for everyone to get moving.

Varric shook his head slightly at the thought that while it wasn't his intention to start an argument among the mages, it had at least accomplished the goal of getting Misery back on track. It was a thought that carried a tinge of bitterness with it, as it led him to wonder if she'd ever do the same for him. He realized it had been a lot easier to accept Hawke being Hawke when it wasn't personal.

He also realized he had no idea what he was going to do about it.

-==0==-

Further in they found several pages of stained parchment in the crumbled ruins of a small room. It was difficult to tell what the room might have once been used for since even though this area of the Deep Roads looked to have once been inhabited by the Grey Wardens, there were surprisingly few furnishings left amid the rubble.

Despite the antiquity of the stonemasonry, the condition of the pages they found suggested they'd been dropped relatively recently. The pages contained what appeared to be research notes written by someone named Janeka, and one page in particular drew their interest. It described how the Grey Wardens discovered in the wake of the First Blight that some darkspawn were of high enough intelligence to think, speak, and even command portions of the horde in absence of the Archdemon.

The notes went on to describe the existence of darkspawn that could wield magic with the skill of a Tevinter magister, and how a Grey Warden named Sashamiri set a trap right here in this tower that captured the greatest of these darkspawn – Corypheus.

"Lovely…" Bethany remarked after Anders finished reading the lengthy notes out loud. "And the Grey Wardens had the gall to throw a fit over you and Justice, with _their_ history of playing with darkspawn and demons?"

"You might be missing the point," he replied. "Corypheus has apparently been alive for well over a thousand years. How do you even kill something like that?"

"What were they trying to accomplish here?" Aveline asked. "I can't say I like what we're getting into."

"This Corypheus does seem to be quite powerful," Merrill added.

Anders scoffed. "So I'm not the only one who thinks we need to leave and return with an army instead of continuing on with just the six of us?"

"Except we still don't have a way out of here," Bethany noted.

Misery ran her fingers through her hair while contemplating the situation.

"What's the plan here, Hawke?" Varric asked. Group discussion aside, decisions generally came down to what she wanted to do and whether or not she could be deterred from her path if necessary.

A frown crept across the female rogue's lips, but not for a reason any of the others would have ever guessed. After she'd first figured out awhile back that Varric only called her by her surname anymore when he was annoyed with her, she would get amused when it happened. Now she increasingly disliked it, yet she couldn't pinpoint why exactly it bothered her.

"With Rhatigan and most of the Carta stationed here dead, is dealing with Corypheus even a requirement at this point?" she asked, thinking out loud. "I admit I don't like the prospect of spending my life worrying that he might get his claws into someone else and send them after us… but that might be preferable to taking on something that might have actually been one of those magister-lords the Maker cast down from the Black City."

She took a deep breath that she exhaled slowly before continuing, "Maybe we just find an exit and go home." A couple of moments later she shook her head and answered herself, "No… I can't leave without a resolution one way or the other. I can't live with this hanging over our heads."

Misery turned away from the others and looked down the long hall into the darkness ahead. "I have no choice but to keep going," she said in a quiet voice, "but I won't ask any of you to follow. Feel free to leave if you want."

"Oh, stuff it already!" Bethany exclaimed. "You are _not_ getting rid of me, so spare me the theatrics."

"This isn't a game, Bethany. I am deadly serious."

Varric shook his head. "Really? You couldn't have picked a better word there than 'deadly'?" It was his turn to sigh. "Shit… I'm with you… Just… try not to make me regret it."

Aveline was torn. The Hawkes were her friends, but her duty now was to Kirkwall. And throwing herself into a possibly hopeless battle was compromising that duty. Still, she felt trapped to a degree. She suspected Anders would join her if she said she was going to look for a way out, but she was also aware that splitting up was possibly even more dangerous, further reducing the odds of surviving a run-in with a pack of darkspawn.

"This isn't your fight," Bethany said to the guard-captain, guessing at what was going through her mind by the look of consternation on her face and the gnawing on her bottom lip. "It's alright."

Aveline schooled her expression into a slight smirk. "You think I'm going to face your mother's wrath for coming back without you?"

Her statement might not have been the entire truth of the matter, but Aveline knew that nothing good could come from full disclosure. Morale was bad enough without her admitting that she was sticking with them essentially out of circumstance.

Bethany returned the smirk, while Misery gave no reaction other than to continue staring off into the distance with her back turned to the group.

Merrill put her hand on Misery's shoulder. "You and Bethany have been so good to me. I will help you."

Anders sighed. No offense to the others, but if he had an exit available he would take it. He had no delusions that going up against Corypheus and his merry band of darkspawn was going to end well. And regardless of his prior feelings for Bethany, he had no investment in this particular venture. However, much like Aveline, he understood there was more strength in numbers than trying to go it alone, and consequently that his best chance for survival was to stick with the group for now and hope for the best.

"Let's get going…" he said, not bothering to hide the sense of resignation in his tone. "But _please_… don't charge ahead blindly. Give me a chance to sense if darkspawn are close by."

Misery turned around and nodded firmly. "We're leaning on your expertise here. If we need to stop and wait, take a detour, or whatever else – that's your call."

She wasn't oblivious to the fact that Anders gave them a much needed advantage, or to his reluctance to be there. So for the benefit of the former, she was willing to accommodate the latter by playing nice.

-==0==-

Anders whispered for the group to proceed cautiously. He could sense something ahead, but wasn't sure what exactly it was. The taint tickling his senses didn't quite feel like either darkspawn or wardens.

Misery held up her hand and glanced back to the group. She could hear something rustling about in the room they were approaching, and as they got closer she was able to see a severely disheveled male human scavenging in some rubble. The man wore rusted, battered heavy armor, and from the side she could tell he was missing large chunks of his dingy brown hair and beard.

The man jerked upwards at the sounds of footsteps. He got to his feet and spun around to face the visitors.

"The key!" he exclaimed. His voice was rough, as if unused in quite some time. He scurried towards them, limping badly. His left arm was clutched to his side, leaving the impression that it also had been injured at one time and never healed properly.

"Did they find it? The dwarves? I heard them looking… digging…"

Misery dropped into a fighting stance with her daggers at the ready. "Not another step, freak!"

The man stopped his approach, but it wasn't clear if it was due to Misery's command or her openly hostile physical reaction.

"How is it that you bring the key here?" he asked.

Misery's eyes flicked down to the blade in her left hand and back to the man. She noted the pupils of his eyes were similar to the corrupted dwarves they'd fought all along the way, shrunken to the point of barely being visible. And his armor wasn't simply rusted, but rather stained with blood so many times over without being cleaned that the stains were permanent. The hilt of the longsword sheathed on his back was in desperate need of a rewrap as well. This was a warrior, and clearly one who had been down here in the Deep Roads a long time. It was hard to tell just how old he was, but Misery guessed he was in his mid 50s at minimum.

"What do you know of this 'key'?" she asked suspiciously.

"Magic… old magic, it is," he answered. "Magic from the blood. It made the seals. It can destroy them."

"Would those be the seals holding in Corypheus?"

The man looked around nervously. "Do not say that name! Do not wake him! Not while you hold the key!"

"Yeah, well, I'm not leaving without killing him. Do you know where I can find him?"

"I will tell you no more than I told the dwarves. There is only one that can use the key, and you are not him."

Misery blew out a long exasperated breath, standing up straight and letting her daggers drop to her side. "Can you at least tell me where the exit is? The way we came sealed behind us."

The man began to pace. "No way out when the walls stand! The Wardens build their prisons well, you see. If the center holds, who cares what else is trapped?"

Aveline smacked her forehead. "I don't think we're going to get any help from this wretch, Hawke. He's too far gone."

The man perked up. "Hawke! You are the blood of the Hawke! I smell no magic on you."

"I doubt you could smell anything but yourself at this point," Misery retorted.

Her sarcasm had a deeper purpose than simply poking at him, however. She was suspicious of the old man's statement and sought to keep his focus on her, lest he figure out that Bethany was both a mage and a Hawke.

Varric chuckled. "I'm guessing it's been a few years since his last bath. Last time I smelled something that bad came from Revas after you fed him the Hanged Man's stew."

"Mystery meat of the day is always a bad idea," Anders muttered.

The man once again seemed oblivious to the barbs. "Yes, yes… you hold the key! The key to his death… Yes, I can show you the way out, yes…"

Misery scowled. "And I should trust you why? Who are you, and what are you doing down here?"

"You ask me that? I am the one who belongs here, not you. You are no darkspawn."

"Oh, you mean to say _you_ are a darkspawn?" Misery countered.

"He's a Grey Warden, Hawke," Anders said. "Or at least once was. Poor sap probably came down here for his Calling."

"Calling?" Bethany asked.

Anders started to wave her off and say that he'd explain later, but the man answered.

"Grey Warden! Yes! Guardians against the Blight. The music gets louder, its call too strong to ignore. I am dead, except I never died."

Misery shook her head in confusion. "What?"

"I know the way out," the man said. "Follow me. Down and in. Down and in."

"Anders?" Misery asked. "Do you think this crazy is under Corypheus' control? Should we go our own way instead?"

The former Grey Warden scratched at his beard while thinking. "Even if he does work for Corypheus, that's where you're trying to go anyway, right?"

"Not crazy, no…" the man said. "Trust me. I know the prison's secrets. The seals hold us in. Anything comes in, nothing ever leaves. Not without the key. You must use the key on the seals. Every seal, you touch the key to it. Only then they open. Only for the Hawke. Not back, not up. Only way out is down and through the heart. Down… down in the depths."

With that he limped away, leaving the others to follow.

-==0==-

Misery gripped her throbbing head. Part of her silently lamented that her prior blood magic high had worn off. Another part of her was pissed off that the freakish old man who set them on the path of using the Hawke dagger-key to get past the prison's seals left out the teeny tiny little detail that approaching a seal with the key would spawn a guardian demon ready to defend the seal with its life.

Yet another part of her was relieved that despite the unexpected appearance of a ten foot hulking seal guardian, they'd managed to get through the skirmish relatively intact. She wondered how many of these they would need to go through in order to even reach Corypheus.

Before entering this room they'd found more of Janeka's research notes, this time explaining the prison's structure. It consisted of an unspecified number of levels each sealed separately by a blood magic ritual where an untainted mage used their life essence to create a one-way barrier, corroborating the old man's story about not being able to get back out once entering, as well as Anders' prior speculation that Malcolm Hawke might have been involved because they specifically required a mage that wasn't a Grey Warden. And apparently the blood magic rituals had been repeated more than a few times over the centuries in order to maintain the strength of the seals.

In the aftermath of defeating the first guardian, Misery felt like something was off about this whole process, though she couldn't quite make the connection to what it was. Her thoughts were interrupted, however, by the old man slinking into view.

"Two thousand years…" he muttered. "The magic holds, never broken."

Misery glared at him. "Thanks for the warning about the fucking demon guarding it."

He seemingly ignored her remark while heading straight for the circular platform the guardian had spawned from, a platform framed by four glowing pillars. "Give it the key," he continued while gesturing towards the pillars. "Let the key take the magic back to itself. Absorb it, all who came before… and the seal is broken."

Misery glanced down at the dagger-key in her left hand and then to the pillars. "Does it matter which one?"

"Different magics held in each pillar, beyond that I do not know. Only that one pillar falls to the blood, they all fall…"

Misery frowned as she fell into thought for a moment. "Bethany? Can you tell anything about the different pillars?"

The mage walked over and took the dagger from Misery, then climbed on to the platform and moved between pillars, examining them with her senses.

"The pillars are infused with elemental magic – fire, ice, lightning, and nature," she said after a few minutes. "From what he said about using the key to absorb the magic, I suspect the blade will become enchanted with the element of the pillar we choose. Since you're the blade wielder, do you have a preference?"

Misery shrugged. "I already have a lightning enchanted dagger, so let's go with something different."

"How about ice?" Bethany asked. "Father liked ice spells." She flashed a grin at her sister.

"Ice it is then."

Misery began to stand, intent on touching the key to the pillar herself, but Bethany turned and did the same before she could get up. The dagger glowed brightly in response, pulling the magic until the pillar fell dark. Almost immediately the remaining three pillars flickered and dimmed.

The old Grey Warden's eyes widened in surprise. "You! You are of the Hawke blood as well! And an heir to his magic!"

Misery leapt to her feet and raced to the platform while silently scolding herself for letting her guard down and outing Bethany.

"Stay away from her," she warned in a low voice, standing between her sister and the Grey Warden with her other dagger held outward in a threatening manner.

The old man backed up and gestured for the girl to calm herself. "The blood works! It is good… You are the key to his death. I would aid the blood of Malcolm Hawke in that, not prevent it. Only then can we be free. Follow me… I will show you the next seal."

"Just who are you?" Misery demanded.

The man stared at the ground. "Name… so long since I've said my name. What was it? La… hmmm… Larius! I was Larius. There was a title, too. Commander… of the Grey."

Anders raised an eyebrow quizzically. "You were a Commander of the Grey? I wonder how long ago that was."

Misery waved her hand irritably. "What else do you know of this prison? Why should we follow you deeper in? If we've just released the seal to this floor, we can now leave the way we came in."

She had no intention of leaving, but she didn't like how anxious this Larius was to lead them further into the depths.

"The magic…" he began, "it calls to the blood of those who hold it. The last to hold it, the Hawke. I… I was there when he laid the seals. Before I became this. It was… a mistake to preserve Corypheus. Too dangerous. Should have ended him then. Must end him now."

"You knew my father?" Misery asked, staring back skeptically.

"You favor him…" Larius said before grasping his head as if in pain. "C-Corypheus calls! In the darkness!" He quickly scampered away.

"Wait!" Misery exclaimed, but he ignored her and kept going, passing through the doorway leading further in.

"Maker…" Bethany whispered while handing the dagger-key back to her sister. "Has he really been down here almost twenty-four years?"

"Maybe not, Sunshine," Varric answered. "He might have left with your father and come back later. Still, either way it does seem that he's been here a long time. And the way the darkspawn don't seem to notice him, it's like he's practically one of them at this point."

Misery shook her head. "Regardless, he's lucid enough to remember what my father did and how this place works. For now we'll follow, but keep your guards up."

As she and most of the others began to move in the direction Larius went, Anders cleared his throat. "Wait…" he said quietly. When the others stopped and looked back, he continued, "I… umm… the seal on this floor was removed, so… the barrier blocking the way we came will be gone now. I-"

"You're leaving," Misery interjected. "Just come out and say it." There was knowingness in her tone, yet it was without condemnation or malice.

Anders nodded while shifting a bit uncomfortably at the scrutiny. "Yes…" He sighed deeply. "The way Larius can hear Corypheus like the tainted dwarves only confirms that it's a bad idea for me to stay with you as you get closer."

It was a convenient excuse to extract himself from the situation, and while there was truth in it, it wasn't the complete truth. However, he wasn't going to add that he strongly doubted they would succeed against a First Magister turned darkspawn unless pushed on his decision.

No one challenged him though. Misery merely nodded in acknowledgement. Bethany approached him and smiled sympathetically.

"We understand. Take Aveline with you, keep each other safe on the journey back to Kirkwall." She looked over at the guard-captain and nodded firmly, a nod that was returned. They both understood.

Misery was torn about Bethany. Her instincts said to minimize the risk to Bethany even if it increased her own, prodding her to insist Bethany leave with Aveline and Anders.

At the same time, she wanted her sister close. There was the practical matter of her arcane knowledge being very useful, even more so with Anders leaving. But there was also the selfish desire to have her sister close to her as she retraced their father's steps and undid his work. That wasn't enough to override Misery's ingrained impulse to protect Bethany at any cost, but it was enough to keep her from putting up much of a fight.

She sighed. "I suppose there's no chance I can convince you to go with them, is there?" she half-heartedly asked.

The younger girl's glare served as her response, drawing a nod of resignation after a few moments.

"Good luck," Aveline said. "I mean that. Come see me when you get back."

Misery's eyes flicked over to Varric, who was walking towards Aveline and Anders. She assumed his action meant he intended to leave with them, and to her surprise that thought stung. She turned her back and moved a short distance away, trying to force her mind to focus on the next step towards Corypheus.

A couple of minutes later her attention was grabbed by a light punch in the arm. She let go of her Dalish amulet she was running her fingers over and turned her head to see Varric looking up at her. A quick glance over his head revealed the other four were huddled in discussion roughly thirty feet away.

"Hey…" he began, but before he could say anything further, Misery cut him off.

"Don't leave," she blurted out without thinking. "I know I have no right to ask after what I did, but… stay… please."

The surprise at her request gave him a momentary pause before he caught himself and exhaled slowly. On the one hand, it made him happy that she wanted him with her enough to ask, even though he wondered if the reason was personal or practical. But on the other hand…

"How many more times do I need to say or show I've got your back before you actually believe me?" He shook his head. "I'm not going anywhere, Misery."

"I…" she began before stopping and looking into his eyes. "I wouldn't have blamed you…"

Trying to lighten the mood, Varric chuckled softly. "Yeah, I think the only one I put up with more shit from is Bartrand, and that's only because I'm related to that nug humper."

Misery rubbed her temples wearily. "I'm sorry for earlier. I mean, for overreacting and questioning whose side you were on. For whatever it is worth to you, I think that despite what I said, I knew you wouldn't have hurt Bethany."

Varric nodded. He believed her, but at the same time they were just words and that tempered his emotions.

Sighing, Misery started back towards the group. "Come on, V, let's get moving."

The dwarf blinked in surprise. She just gave him a nickname? He didn't know what to make of the casual delivery of it either, as if she hadn't given it any thought before saying it, but figured now wasn't the time to crack a joke about it. Instead he fell in step as they went back to the others.

-==0==-

After Anders and Aveline left, Bethany turned to her sister. "Anders brought up a very good point. We shouldn't break any more seals until after we're done with Corypheus."

"Why's that?"

"Think about it… if we remove all of the seals and then can't defeat Corypheus, we've just done all the work to free him from this prison."

Misery raised an eyebrow quizzically. "At that point would it even matter? He'd have our blood and the key, right?"

"I… I suppose so. No sense making it easier though."

Merrill shook her head. "This feels so wrong to me. If nothing that comes in gets out, how did your father leave?" When the others looked at the elf, she continued, "We had to pass through the first barrier before reaching the first seal, and you could not pass back through even though you are Hawkes and had the key. So what are we not being told?"

Misery nodded in approval at the girl. "Oh, I intend to find out the answer to that and more."

Bethany tugged at a strand of hair while thinking. "Demons…" she finally said with a sigh. "I'd bet the Grey Wardens were using demons bound by blood magic to traverse the barriers via the Fade. Conceptually similar to what Merrill did on Sundermount, but with more finesse and less brute force."

"Something else doesn't add up," Varric said. "Why didn't they destroy the key or, no offense, kill Papa Hawke when he was done? It's like they _wanted_ to leave open the possibility of setting Corypheus free later."

Misery looked in turn at each of her three companions. "I think the one thing we do know is not to take anything we're told at face value. Also, we no longer have our 'darkspawn sniffer' as Varric called him, so we're going to need to be even more careful moving around in here."

Bethany smirked. "That applies to you too, you know."

"Yes, that applies to me too," she answered, nodding in agreement. "Trust me, I know I can't do this alone. For now, let's catch up with Larius and see about finding somewhere to set up camp. I'm pretty much spent at this point, so I'm assuming you could all use the rest as well."

Despite the calm air Misery was projecting, she was full of doubt – self-doubt that started with wondering how her father would feel about her deconstructing the prison his blood had maintained. She also had a hard time reconciling the man she knew with the apparent blood mage who bound demons and darkspawn throughout this place. Was it more than simply gaining passage to Ferelden that made him go through with the rituals in the first place? What would he say to his daughters if he could talk to them at that very moment? That uncertainty bothered her even more than the doubt she felt over getting through this alive.

Undoing his work also reminded her that no matter how hard she tried to be like him, she usually failed. In her mind this day reflected that once again. Her father was a builder, she was a destroyer. He was good at drawing out the best in those around him, she was good at driving them away. He had many talents. Sometimes she felt like the only thing she was good at was killing things.

Something she never stopped to consider, however, was the fact her father never wanted her to be him. He'd never intended his message to her before his death to come to this - the loss of her self-identity... and self-worth.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Not really sure what I was thinking when I said last time we'd get through Corypheus in this chapter. Then again, I'm somewhat concerned that I'm dragging this particular quest out too long. In hindsight it might have been better to spend less time on the first half of Legacy in order to keep from needing four long chapters to get through it, but nothing to be done about that now. Anyway, I'm shooting to have chapter 26 done next week, but I'll admit I ended this chapter at this spot mainly because I'm hung up on something in the next part. Hopefully I'll get it worked out soon and the words will start flowing again :)<em>


	26. A Legacy Overturned

Varric worked the stopper loose, careful not spill any of the precious liquid. He set the small jar of ink down and took up his quill, staring briefly at the journal in his lap before glancing up at his companions. Daisy was up and about, putting together a meager meal. The Hawke girls were still sleeping, though Sunshine showed signs of stirring. Varric figured Larius was slinking around somewhere nearby, waiting for them to eventually move on to the next seal.

He wondered if Larius even required sleep anymore, thinking about the old Grey Warden saying he survived for so many years feeding on darkspawn corruption alone. Varric hoped it wouldn't come to that for them. As it was the nightmares of what that had done to Gerav weren't going away anytime soon.

Food was beginning to be a problem though. How long had they been down here? The passage of time was difficult to mark without any visual clues. Distance covered wasn't much help either because their progress had been painfully slow – figuratively _and _literally, with a mental toll to match the physical. Best he could guess was three arduous days since entering the tower.

Sighing lightly, Varric turned his attention back to his journal.

_Are we there yet? Scary to think that after we go home, we'll turn around and head right back to the Deep Roads. The expedition damned well better be worth it. As a dwarf I'm probably supposed to feel pride and awe at the work of our ancestors, but all I can do is look around and ask myself, what were they thinking?_

_If I was looking for a silver lining from this, it'd be that I'll have no shortage of new story material. Then again, tagging along with Misery for the better part of a year has been a mother lode for ideas. I could probably make a fortune writing a serial about her, except she'd probably kill me if she found out. That wou_

"Another one of your stories?" Merrill asked, interrupting him as she held out a small bowl. "What is it about?"

He set down his quill and capped his ink before accepting the bowl and gesturing for her to sit down.

"Oh, it's the story of the fiendishly good looking Deep Roads explorer, Tarric von Ethras, and the three beautiful women at his side as they seek fame, fortune, and adventure."

"Hmmm… I suppose no one wants to read stories about ugly people, do they?"

"It's escapism, Daisy. People want their heroes to be larger than life. I mean, who wants to read that they stink from all the blood, sweat, and grime they've accumulated in the week since their last baths? That one of them is having female issues, or that the leading man would much rather find a proper toilet than a chest of gold about now?"

"I… I see your point. Too much realism kind of destroys the fun."

"Exactly. Even if I stretched the story to a quest for the golden toilet, that shit won't sell." He chuckled at his own bad pun.

The sounds of voices brought Misery back to consciousness. However, she continued to lay still with her eyes closed. It was her habit, a way of taking quiet time for herself, whether it was to mentally prepare for what was ahead or to reflect. It was something she'd done for years, though she'd also discovered a sneakier purpose on the journey to Sundermount. Not revealing she was awake immediately sometimes resulted in overhearing things that otherwise wouldn't be spoken in her presence.

Misery knew the others would be furious if they knew she did that, but her attitude reflected how she dealt with people. Don't say something about someone that you wouldn't be willing to say to their face, because chances are it will eventually reach their ears anyway.

After a few minutes of eating in silence, Varric asked Merrill, "How are your feet?"

The barefoot elf had complained about their discomfort from the extended length of time standing and walking on the hard, often crumbled stone. He'd already made a note to see Jean Luc about a pair of light, comfortable boots for her once they were home. The old Hightown merchant would likely have something suitable and owed him a favor anyway.

"They are better after having rested," Merrill replied, "though I have no doubt they will begin hurting again. The ground here is so hard and cold. I am trying to manage without casting my meager healing magic or asking Bethany for hers. I know we need to conserve our mana for when it really matters."

"We're all wearing down, Daisy. Don't be shy about asking for a break if you need one."

By this time, Bethany had risen from her slumber, grabbed one of the remaining bowls, and was just joining them.

"Do you think we should wake her?" Merrill asked, gesturing to Misery.

Varric shook his head. Recalling their last skirmish before stopping for rest, he said, "I think anyone who jumps on an ogre's back, kills it, then leaps off and without ever touching the ground kills another huge darkspawn has earned the right to sleep until they wake up on their own."

"I wish I could do those things," Merrill said. "She amazes me."

Bethany sighed lightly. "She needs the rest more than any of us. I can't believe she hit me for commenting that Father obviously didn't want a mage child."

"She did have a point, Sunshine. Going by all I've heard from you two about Papa Hawke and from the stuff we heard him say, saying your father wished you wouldn't have been born was nonsense. I agree with Misery… him saying he hoped his child would take after your mother and that he wouldn't wish his magic on anyone only meant he didn't want you to have that same burden."

"I know…" Bethany replied. "You're both right. I just know how much easier it would have been on the family without me having magic. I know they never loved me any less because of it, but when I heard father say that about hoping the baby he and Mother were expecting wouldn't have magic… fears I've struggled much of my life with rose up again."

In a quieter voice she continued, "I know my sister was hurting too, but she didn't need to lay into me for it. It wasn't fair."

"She was obviously very close to him," Merrill said. "I admit I envy your family. It reminds me of my people when we are at our best."

"I wasn't going to mention it," Varric began, "but Misery had a tough time holding it together all three times we ran into demons bound by your father and heard his voice. I think she more or less cried herself to sleep, though she was trying her damndest to hide it."

Bethany nodded. "We all miss him, but with her it's… complicated. Sometimes it's as if she never finished grieving and doesn't know how to move forward."

Misery bit her bottom lip and began to rouse, determined to put an end to this line of conversation. She wasn't happy that she hadn't been able to lock down her emotions, and even less happy that it was being discussed. She sat up and stretched, opening her eyes and glancing over at her companions.

"Food," Varric said while gesturing towards the last bowl Merrill had prepared.

Misery nodded and rose slowly. The others fell silent into their own thoughts.

A look of disgust came over the raven haired rogue's face as she saw the contents of the bowl. "No offense to whoever cooked," she began, "but what I wouldn't give for a roasted chicken on a bed of wild rice right now."

Varric laughed. "Tell me about it. When we get back I'm going to lock myself in my room with a platter of pastries stacked to the ceiling and eat myself into a sugar coma. And when I wake up from that, Norah is going to bring me one pint after another until I pass out again."

Bethany shook her head while grinning at him. "Careful, at that rate you'll undo all of your progress in no time at all."

"Progress?"

She nodded. "You've trimmed down since we met. Not that you were in _bad_ shape before, but your arms and chest are more solid. You're practically svelte by dwarven standards."

Varric glanced over at the heavy duster lying on the ground where he'd left it after waking up, then down to his torso, which was clad only in a sleeveless linen shirt that didn't cover much more than his stomach. A smirk crept across his lips as he looked back up at her.

"Sunshine, stop looking at my chest. My eyes are up here."

Giggling, Bethany shook her head again. "You know, I'm going to steal that line for the next time some slob chats me up."

"Or you could try covering your tits for a change," Misery remarked dryly.

"Says the one who has nothing to worry about there," the younger girl shot back.

Misery shrugged. "Just because I didn't get in line twice when the Maker was handing them out like you and Mother doesn't mean I have nothing at all. I simply choose not to parade mine around."

"The Maker really does that?" Merrill asked. "He is clearly more generous than the Dalish gods in that regard."

While Misery snickered at that and Varric resisted the urge to cover his face with his palm, Bethany rolled her eyes. "Sarcasm, Merrill."

"Oh, I-I see… still, Misery's are nice too. What do you think, Varric?"

The dwarf coughed. He strongly suspected there wasn't _any _answer he could give to that question without putting his health at risk.

"So, Misery, how are you feeling this morning… or afternoon, or whatever time of day it actually is?" he asked, abruptly changing the subject.

Misery, who was staring at Merrill as if trying to figure out why the elf would even think to comment on her chest, glanced over at Varric and forced a casual shrug.

"Focused, if that's what you are asking."

Her thoughts went back to the discussion the others were having while they thought she was sleeping. She sighed while staring at the ground in front of her. She really didn't want to get into it, but she could also see they needed more reassurance from her.

"I'm not going to lie, hearing Father's voice again brought back so many memories, and to hear him say after the last demon at the end that all he did here was for Mother and me… it was a bit overwhelming. But I'm alright now. My mind is back on the mission."

Varric nodded. "That's good. Larius said we have two more seals to go, the second of which holds Corypheus himself behind it. We're going to need our death defying hero who leaps tall darkspawn in a single bound to be on top of her game."

Misery looked back up at her companions. She recognized that Varric's teasing carried a point with it, but it wasn't a point she was going to belabor.

Instead she replied, "We all know our supplies are low, which means we're running out of time. But even with a very thin margin for error, we still have to be smart. We'll continue to avoid hostiles as much as possible, try to avoid getting sidetracked further, and stop regularly for short breaks to keep our energy up."

As the other three nodded in agreement, Bethany smiled gently. "We trust you, Sister. We know you won't let us fail."

Misery nodded in return, her own slight smile covering her true feelings. _I hope you are right about that…_

-==0==-

Another long stairwell down opened up into an area appearing very different than what they'd seen so far. While the previous couple of levels were also separate from the main tower and part of the Deep Roads, the extensive human and/or dwarven architecture reflected what had likely once been a thriving outpost prior to falling into disuse and disarray. No such evidence of Grey Warden inhabitance existed here.

Much to Merrill's relief, the stone flooring gave way to a mixture of packed earth and rubble. For as far below the surface they stood, it reminded her of walking Sundermount. Naturally formed stalagmites protruded from the ground without regard for the living who might attempt to navigate the area. Manmade columns and pillars were sparse, their purpose seemingly only to hold back portions of the cavernous area from collapsing.

Additionally, there was a distinct lack of controlled lighting. Misery noted the absence of sconces to hold torches or oil lamps. Nor were there the magelights that provided a modicum of illumination to the previous levels. The darkness encroached here, and was made even more ominous by an eerie greenish glow that seemed to come from some natural source, yet didn't yield enough light to see clearly more than roughly a hundred feet ahead.

The visibility made for a difficult decision. Both mages were capable of creating light. However, doing so would not only require a small measure of mana to sustain, but would also advertise their presence to anything out here. Stumbling blind into something versus being able to see further at the expense of attracting enemies who might otherwise not take notice of them was a pick their poison type of choice.

Misery opted not to have the mages augment the lighting, a decision that sounded reasonable but was proven to be folly by the first encounter. They were swarmed by a few dozen four-legged, squaty lizard-like creatures that hissed and spit acidic venom. Clearly the creatures had adapted to the living conditions, where either their lowlight vision was superior or their other senses had developed to pick up the slack. In either case, Misery and company had been taken by surprise.

The lizard things were surprisingly soft on the outside, apparently not needing a hard, scaly exterior to survive down here in the depths. As a result they went down in droves to sweeping blades and magic. However, they left their mark in the process, with their venom melting through leather armor and clothing. Everyone suffered painful burns to their legs from the creatures that weren't more than knee-high to Misery. They blew through nearly every healing poultice they had left patching each other's wounds, making the decision to reverse course on supplemental lighting an easy one.

Not long after they resumed their journey, they came across some dwarven remains. Misery dug through the small satchel next to it, not finding anything of interest other than a small collection of documents written in what she gathered to be a dwarven tongue. She handed them to Varric, who skimmed them over.

"This poor schlep was a Legionnaire – Legion of the Dead." Seeing the curious stares, he continued, "It's an Orzammar thing. No matter how serious a crime you commit, if you join the Legion and vow to die fighting darkspawn, your name is cleared."

"What's the point?" Misery asked. "Death is death, right?"

"Dwarves put a high value on lineages and legacies. Entire houses are gained and lost by the actions of an individual, and it's not like you humans where after a generation or two no one remembers crazy Uncle Bobo and his thing for small farm animals. As my people say, the stone has a long memory."

"To my point," he continued while waving the pages in his hand, "this was this guy's journal. Apparently he was searching for the one of our paragon's sons who'd been exiled into the Deep Roads for killing his sister. Except they found out later the Carta was responsible for the murder, so Malev Haran here volunteered to come retrieve the falsely accused Prince Tethras Garen."

"Did he find him?" Merrill asked.

"Who knows?" Varric muttered with a sigh. "It doesn't say."

He knelt down and put the pages back into the satchel, leaving them behind rather than adding to his own already overburdened pack. With a shrug he stood and resumed walking. "Oh, and in case you were wondering, they call those lizard things 'deepstalkers'."

-==0==-

Misery smiled in smug satisfaction as she took a seat and leaned back against a stalagmite. While they were making their way through the darkness, it occurred to her that the answer to dealing with the locals was to take their advantage away. To that end, she ordered Bethany and Merrill to throw fire liberally, and she and Varric joined in by tossing incendiary grenades.

The bright flashes of light served a secondary purpose of blinding those unaccustomed to anything but darkness, enabling the group to quickly clean up the ones not taken down by the initial assault. Now they were taking a short break to catch their breath.

Varric walked over holding another set of documents. "Check this out. I found another Legionnaire journal. It says this guy was part of the _eighth_ Legion unit Paragon Garen sent after Tethras in the five years after his exile. It also mentions that they could sense the Grey Warden magic here, but no more detail than that."

"Five years?" Merrill asked. "Surely this paragon knew his son had to be dead after so long down here?"

"Probably so, Daisy. But like I said, dwarves take this shit seriously."

"A good man…" Misery remarked. "You don't give up on family without knowing for certain. He understood that."

After a few minutes of silence, Bethany looked over at Varric and frowned. "Varric? You look like someone kicked your puppy. Does it have anything to do with this fellow being named Tethras?"

The dwarf sighed. "I was just thinking… this all happened a few hundred years ago… Exalted Age I think. Tethras Garen was the heir to Paragon Garen's house. As the story goes, they never could find him after the real murderer was found. So instead, every Garen heir from that time on took the name Tethras in his honor. Later, one of them became a paragon in his own right and… founded House Tethras… my clan."

"This was one of your ancestors?" Merrill asked in astonishment.

"Not directly, though House Tethras did form from House Garen. Also, House Tethras was more than my parents and Bartrand, and splintered after being expelled from Orzammar. But still… this is all a little closer than I like to come to my past."

Misery had a nagging suspicion as to why if the Legion was looking here that they'd failed to bring word either way back to Garen. Despite the events with Tethras Garen having been centuries earlier, she felt a pang of guilt realizing her father's actions here perpetuated the fundamental problem.

This was a prison. Easy to enter… impossible to leave.

She didn't need any additional motivation to take down the seals and Corypheus, but she scowled in anger nevertheless at the consequences of what the Grey Wardens had done. How many had suffered as a result of their folly?

Misery also realized that even though Varric was downplaying the significance of what they'd learned, this was now as much about his familial past as it was hers and Bethany's. She didn't know if the Grey Wardens had other, similar prisons throughout Thedas, but she intended to at least put an end to this one.

-==0==-

It was several hours later when they stopped at a spring bubbling from the ground. Unlike the handful of murky ponds filled with toxic water they'd previously come across, this one actually appeared uncontaminated. With a strong sense of relief they drank heartily, refilled their water skins, and afterwards washed up as best they could without going so far as to strip down and immerse themselves. Not that a full bath didn't hold great appeal for all present, but practicality won out. It was simply too much of a risk with the potential for darkspawn for come upon them.

While taking a moment to relax, Misery heard Varric call out from nearby.

"Awww… shit."

She hopped to her feet and went to see what he'd found, arriving at the same time as the others. The dwarf looked up and then sadly gestured to the remains piled between a pair of large boulders.

"Tethras Garen…" he said quietly before turning away.

A little while earlier they'd found a third Legionnaire journal, which confirmed Misery's suspicions about the Legion dwarves unknowingly entering the Grey Warden prison only to find themselves unable to get out. At the time of the journal's writing, Paragon Garen had been sending Legionnaires to search for Tethras for ten years.

And though the journal's author, Bashath Garen, had figured out the mystery, it was too late for him to do anything with the information. He closed by asking whoever found his journal in the future to read the words of the Stone's Blessing ritual over the bones of Tethras Garen should they find him.

Bethany sighed deeply. "So many lives wasted…" she stated, "sacrificed in order to keep this place and Corypheus a secret." After another sigh she asked, "Varric, what do you want to do here?"

"There's nothing really to do, Sunshine."

Misery shook her head. "The blessing ritual… read the words from that last journal."

"It… it's alright," he said. He turned to walk away.

Misery grabbed him by the arm to stop him. "Give me the journal then."

He started to protest, but stopped when he recognized that _don't question me_ expression of hers. Instead, he muttered something unintelligible while fishing the pages out and handing them to her. It wasn't that he didn't want to say the Stone's Blessing, it was that he didn't think he could maintain his composure through it.

"Point to where it starts and ends," she demanded. Varric gestured to the next to last paragraph on the page of dwarven text.

Misery cleared her throat. "I have no idea if I'll be saying this right, but here goes – _Astrat tunsha. Totarnia amgetol tavash aeduc._" She bowed her head and closed her eyes before solemnly adding, "May the Maker guide your soul."

She didn't care that she was probably mixing religions here, it just seemed appropriate to her.

After a few moments of silence Bethany said, "That was really sweet of you, Sister."

"It's family… you do what you have to do." Her tone suggested she wasn't nearly as dismissive as her words appeared on the surface.

Varric rubbed his eyes. "Thank you, Misery…" he muttered, choking up slightly before trailing off into silence.

"Let's go back to the spring and get something to eat," Misery replied. "You let me know when you're ready to move on."

As Misery walked away with Merrill in tow, Bethany put her hand on Varric's shoulder and smiled gently. "Don't be embarrassed, we can relate."

The dwarf nodded. "Just wasn't expecting this… or her to do that. Give me a few to clear the clutter from my head and I'll be alright…"

He didn't elaborate on the _clutter_, but a number of thoughts were running through his mind. As a dwarf born on the surface he personally didn't care much about Orzammar, but Bartrand had been born there and carried a much greater sense of dwarven pride – and resentment over their exile. Varric knew his older brother would be very interested in this information.

He also couldn't help but think of his parents. He never knew his father, who died when Varric was only two. But he'd witnessed the devastation the man had inflicted on his mother, first by getting their entire noble house exiled for his individual role in fixing Provings, and then by dying only five years later and leaving her to raise their two children on her own. She spiraled into despair and effectively drank herself to death by the time Varric was eight.

Despite the wealth and influence Bartrand built for the family on the surface with the Dwarven Merchants Guild, Varric knew that more than anything his mother had wanted to return to the home that cast her aside because of his father. He grew up hating the man for it. He expected Bartrand would try to use the discovery here to have House Tethras reinstated in Orzammar, and wished their mother was still alive to see it. Even if it turned out she couldn't go back, at least she'd have a source of pride to cling to.

Another thread weaving its way through Varric's mind was Misery's insistence on having the blessing ritual read, going so far as to fumble through the unfamiliar dwarven words herself when he wouldn't step up.

_Step up_… it's what he'd demanded of her a few days earlier. And in her typical uncomplicated, understated way she'd done just that. He suspected she had some lingering guilt over Gerav, but took a small measure of comfort in the thought that she cared enough about their friendship to make the effort, even if she seemed to avoid making it obvious.

Bethany smiled at the dwarf, whose mind was clearly elsewhere. "Come on, we'd better get back before they decide not to save us any food."

He forced a smirk and began walking. "Thinking with your stomach… if I didn't know better I'd say you were part dwarf yourself. The height kind of gives you away though."

"Hmmm… I've never thought of myself as tall. My sister is nearly a head taller than me. Father and Carver were even taller. I suppose it's a matter of perspective."

A genuine grin crept across the dwarf's face. "I guess Misery opted for seconds on height instead of… you know."

Bethany laughed. "I'm so telling her you said that."

Varric joined in the laughter, glad to feel some of his stress washing away.

-==0==-

"Will you fucking die already?" Misery screeched, repeatedly plunging her daggers into the chest and neck of the guardian demon that was down to its knees but still struggling to fight.

She ignored the burn in her overexerted arm and leg muscles, the blood trickling down her neck from her right ear, as well as the painful throbbing of her temples in rhythm with her heartbeat. She was so frustrated that saving her breath for actual breathing didn't matter to her. Instead she continued to hurl taunts, insults, and strings of expletives at the demon with as much vigor as her physical attacks.

Misery continued to pour out her anger even as the demon fell. She'd become so single-minded that the shouting around her barely registered. It took the ground shaking violently as if an earthquake was taking place to pull her back.

She blinked in surprise, finally ending the onslaught. Almost immediately a pair of arms wrapped around her torso from behind, pinning her own arms to her body.

"Stop!" Bethany exclaimed. "It's over!"

"That thing isn't gonna get any more dead," Varric added.

Panting heavily, Misery merely nodded. As soon as Bethany let go of her, she dropped to her hands and knees and dry heaved from pushing her body to its limits. She felt a healing spell coursing over her. While grateful, what she really wished for was one of Anders' rejuvenation spells.

They had fought many – too many – darkspawn simply to reach this level's seal. So many that Misery had bitterly wondered aloud why the Grey Wardens weren't around to clean up this mess. She wouldn't have been surprised to find out the darkspawn were considered part of the prison defenses.

Once the group reached the seal, her plan to station the others in the corners of the room while she spawned the guardian went awry when the guardian invoked magic that further spawned copies of itself near each of them.

That threw their strategy into disarray, and it was a miracle there was no friendly fire amid the chaos. Their saving grace was the shadow copies being pale imitations of the original, little more than illusions to confuse the guardian's foes. However, their presence occupied Misery's companions and forced her into a mostly solo battle against the guardian itself. Her agility eventually won out over its raw strength, but it took almost everything she had, and she suffered injuries at its hands.

Bethany took the dagger-key from her sister and went to examine the magic in the pillars while Misery rolled over on to her back and continued to breathe loudly. Varric and Merrill took the opportunity to get off their feet for some much needed rest as well.

"Are we there yet?" Varric groused. No one replied, not that there was really anything to say about it.

Despite the sarcasm laced tone, he was legitimately concerned about how much they had left. Each of them was digging deep, the struggle to keep going becoming as much mental as physical.

Varric's eyes flitted over his companions before settling on his fellow rogue. The rise and fall of her chest was gradually slowing down, but that it was taking so long for her to catch her breath was telling. As was the way she'd kept stabbing the guardian well after its death. She was pushing herself to the breaking point.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Sunshine's weary voice. "Same as the last seal, I can't tell with any certainty what the magics in these pillars do."

"No chance any of them will let her make copies of herself like the guardian did, is there?" Varric asked sarcastically.

"Copies of us would be nice…" Merrill agreed.

"The best I can describe the auras I feel from them is the first one feels slow and heavy, kind of like how I feel. The second feels lighter. It reminds me of a wispy cloud. The third has an intense, swirling energy. Almost an angry feel to its aura. The fourth one if more like a steady, forceful pulse."

Rather than reply verbally, Misery held up three fingers briefly before letting her arm drop once more. Bethany got the message and touched the dagger-key to the third pillar, absorbing its magic.

When she finished, Varric snapped his fingers to get the mage's attention. Bethany looked over to see him motion with his hands as if breaking a stick, indicating they needed to take a break now. She nodded and went to sit down by her sister. A wry grin formed on her lips as she sat. The older girl was already asleep.

Bethany reached over and brushed the sweat-matted hair off her sister's brow, adding some additional healing magic to her touch.

"You two get some sleep," she said to Varric and Merrill. "I'll take watch."

-==0==-

Misery awoke to the sound of hushed whispers.

"He feels the seals weakening," Larius said. "He knows you are coming. You must be ready!"

"If you want us to be ready," Varric replied while pacing back and forth, "then stop rushing us. Or better yet, contribute your sword to the cause instead of running off and hiding."

Bethany shook her head. She doubted the old Grey Warden's sword was for anything but show at this point given how hobbled he was simply walking. But she also understood Varric's frustration.

"Be patient, we are doing the best we can," she quietly added.

Merrill shrugged. "If Corypheus has been down here more than a thousand years, I can't see what difference another day makes."

Misery opened her eyes and sat up, suppressing the groan that wanted to escape at both the lingering soreness and the initial lightheadedness that took a moment to subside. She recognized the room where they'd slain the seal guardian, though with their day/night cycles having been thrown off and everything appearing the same, she had no idea how much time had elapsed.

Larius turned his head as if listening for something off in the darkness. His expression turned to one mixed of anger and fear. "No… no… They're here!"

Misery scrambled to her feet. "Who is where?"

"The Wardens!" Larius exclaimed. "They listen to Corypheus. They want to bring him the light. You must stop them!" He began scurrying away into the darkness.

Varric smacked his forehead. "Oh, great… As if we didn't have enough obstacles in our way."

"Why are they _our_ problem to deal with?" Misery asked incredulously. She swore under her breath when Larius kept going without looking back.

A couple of minutes later, the murmurings of multiple voices could be heard approaching, and finally a group of four came into view. Misery quickly took inventory of their appearances, noting the three men were armed with a bow, pair of daggers, and greatsword respectively, while the woman at the front carried an obvious mage staff. They each wore similar armor bearing a prominent griffon emblem.

"You!" the woman said. "You have the key! How did you get past the seals?"

Misery smirked. "I told my friend here we should've taken that left turn at Albuquerque, but do you think he listens? Oh no, he's all 'I'm the dwarf here, my people _built_ the Deep Roads, blah blah'. Well as you can see, we're clearly lost and probably already missed last call at the tavern."

Varric resisted the urge to laugh. One of the things he enjoyed about her was how she often met ridiculous questions with equally ridiculous answers. And he understood that she didn't want to give away more than she had to.

"No, no, you have it all wrong," he said, sighing theatrically. "The tour guide promised spectacular views of the scenic Vimmarks, said we'd see wonders unseen in centuries. Next thing we know he ditches us in the Deep Roads. Talk about your false advertising."

Bethany and Merrill stared at the two rogues in bewilderment.

The Grey Warden mage scowled. "You are the ones responsible for the prison breaking down. But how did you make it this far?"

Misery's expression turned serious. "Getting _in_ isn't the problem, is it?" she asked knowingly. Judging from their appearances, she guessed each of the wardens was older than her mother. "How many years have you wardens been trapped down here? Or are you even trapped?"

Varric cleared his throat. "More importantly, what do you guys eat? Darkspawn carcass is a bit too exotic for my tastes in cuisine."

The woman's eyes darted back and forth before finally locking with Misery's. "You… you're the blood of Malcolm Hawke, aren't you?"

When Misery's response was only a slight narrowing of her eyes, the woman continued, "Yes, that must be it. The Carta told me they were close. I am Janeka. I lead this unit of Grey Wardens."

At the mention of 'Carta', images flashed through Misery's mind in rapid fire succession. Being followed from the Hanged Man, the night spent jailed for killing the insane dwarves, being attacked several times, _Bethany_ being attacked, fighting their way through a fortress of them. Her expression darkened.

"You sent the Carta after me?" Her tone was low and even, but carried along on the currents of it was a barely contained fury.

"We need your help, Hawke," Janeka replied, beginning to pace. "The Grey Wardens built this prison to contain one of the most powerful darkspawn they ever encountered. I have done extensive research on this darkspawn, and I believe the original wardens were wrong. He isn't a threat to humanity, he is our greatest opportunity."

"You are _not _spilling my blood!" Misery hissed, interrupting the woman. At Janeka's surprised reaction, she added, "Yes, we know all about what was going on here. We have documents you penned explaining what Corypheus is and how this prison works. We know how my father was used in blood magic rituals to reinforce the seals here."

"Forbidden magics are sometimes necessary. But Corypheus… a darkspawn, who can speak, feel, reason… he could help us end the blights forever."

"Corypheus used you!" exclaimed Larius, reemerging from the dark. "He cares nothing for blights."

One of Janeka's men gasped in astonishment. "The Warden-Commander!"

Janeka sneered. "Don't listen to this… creature. He's half darkspawn himself. _I _know how to harness Corypheus, how to use his magic to end the blights."

"No!" Larius answered. "The Wardens knew! Corypheus is too powerful." He turned to Misery. "Corypheus calls to her and she listens. She brought him the Carta, sent them to you."

"Oh, now that was a bad idea," Varric remarked, shaking his head. He shifted into threat evaluation mode, knowing Bianca was going to get twitchy very soon.

"We need your help!" Janeka reiterated, this time more vehemently than before.

"Are you insane?" Bethany asked. "What possibly makes you think an ancient magister turned darkspawn is going to cooperate with you?"

"Make no mistake about it, I am not making a deal with this darkspawn. I have a spell that can bind him to my will. He will become our most important weapon against the blights."

Merrill looked up at Misery. "If she knows how to bind him, I do not see the harm." She quickly averted her eyes when the full intensity of Misery's glare was turned on her.

"More blood magic?" Bethany asked before glancing at her sister. "This is a terrible idea."

Janeka sneered once again. "Everything that was done to Corypheus was through the power of blood! The Wardens used that power to imprison him here long before the Chantry banned such magic. It is the only way to hold him. _I _can use that power to hold him."

Larius shook his head while waving his arms in disagreement. "No, they never bound him. Only the walls. He cannot be held."

As her habit, Misery let everyone else talk while she listened and calculated. This time, however, her contemplation wasn't in regards to choosing between Larius and Janeka. Sending the Carta in force against her family precluded everything. Instead her deliberations were over how quickly she could kill Janeka and if it would be enough to shift the resulting battle against the remaining Wardens in their favor.

She was still in the process of mentally choreographing her deadly dance – _lunge forward, stab Janeka in the throat, then spin to intercept the warden in front of Bethany before he can draw that greatsword. Varric would naturally go for the archer, leaving Merrill against the dual dagger wielder. Not good…_ _if I intercept the_ – when Merrill put her hand on her arm.

"Misery? If they can end the blights… what happened to Ferelden never has to happen again. Is it so wrong to use blood magic for such a good thing?"

Misery opened her mouth to speak, but Bethany got her thought out first. "Merrill… what happens when the mage dies?"

Bethany hoped the subtle hint would sink in. As livid as she was that these Grey Wardens had sent the Carta after them in such an aggressive manner, she knew her sister would be downright murderous.

When Merrill only stared at her in confusion, Bethany continued, "Corypheus isn't a demon being summoned from the Fade and bound to something in this world. He is a living being. And the Grey Warden here isn't going to live forever. So tell me, what happens when she is no longer alive to maintain control? Or what happens if Corypheus is strong enough to break the compulsion, like you told me you did with that blood mage who was corrupting templar recruits?"

_Janeka is going to die alright_, Misery thought. She hoped Bethany raising the question meant she was thinking along the same lines – payback.

Merrill's shoulder slumped. "He would be free," she said softly. "Still… it is difficult not wanting to take the chance when there is so much to be gained."

"Daisy," Varric began in a slightly sarcastic tone, "Papa Hawke helped the Wardens keep Corypheus from getting out. Do you really think Misery is going to do the opposite?"

He didn't have an opinion either way on the Grey Wardens trying to use Corypheus as a tool to end the blights. But he did have an opinion on his life being threatened as a result of the Wardens getting the Carta involved. And even though he'd known more of the dwarves they'd killed along the way than just Gerav and believed they'd made their choices, he still couldn't help feel like the Grey Wardens knowingly let all those dwarves fall under Corypheus' influence. He wouldn't be surprised if they were the ones that initially encouraged the drinking of darkspawn blood.

"Hawke has made her choice!" Larius exclaimed. "The right one!"

Janeka scoffed. "The right one? Or the only one she was given? Malcolm Hawke was not allowed to disagree, was he?"

"It is the past." Larius waved his arms emphatically. "It doesn't matter!"

Misery's opened wide in shock and then narrowed dangerously as she glared at Janeka. "Explain yourself."

Larius growled at Janeka. "How do you know this?" His eyes darted over to one of the men by Janeka's side. "Alec? Did you tell her?"

The gray haired Warden frowned, averting eye contact. He didn't speak, but his guilty appearance gave away the truth. Larius sneered at the man and began to pace, not looking at Misery as he explained.

"Malcolm Hawke was… reluctant. He… had to be… _persuaded_. I was Warden Commander. It was my _duty_! I… I delivered an ultimatum. Help us… or… you'll never see her again."

"You _threatened_ him? Bethany asked incredulously. "Were you going to kill him or his pregnant wife if he didn't cooperate? Or both of them?"

Larius spun around. "No! He came with us. I never had to decide her fate! And she was never told what passed between Malcolm and me."

"You don't know that!" Bethany shouted. "You don't know what he did or didn't tell her after getting away from you! That he didn't call your bluff doesn't excuse what you did!"

Her eyes flicked over to her sister, whose nearly blank expression belied the rage within as she nonchalantly moved closer to the old Grey Warden Commander.

"You see, Hawke?" Janeka said, "How can you trust anything Larius says?"

"I did what I had to do!" Larius answered, continuing to glare at the woman. "We did not have the luxury of waiting until we found a more agreeable untainted apostate. It was too d-"

The old man's words were cut off and he grasped his throat briefly before pulling his hand away. He gurgled while staring wide-eyed at the dark, thick ichor freshly oozing over his gauntlet. Misery slashed once more for good measure. She stared intently as Larius dropped to his knees and then fell forward on his face.

Alec snatched the greatsword from his back and took an aggressive step forward before Janeka waved him off. "Let her be. She only saved me the trouble of ending that fool's life myself."

The man flashed a glare but relented, nodding in resignation. Satisfied, Janeka turned back towards Misery. "You made a wise choice, Hawke. Come on, Corypheus awaits."

Misery sheathed her dagger and took the bow from her back. A wicked plan was forming in her mind.

"You will clear the way," she answered matter-of-factly. "Put those Grey Warden skills to use and keep the darkspawn off us."

Janeka nodded and motioned for everyone to follow her. As she began to walk off, Bethany grabbed her sister's arm. "You are sure of this? Knowing they sent the Carta after us?"

Misery turned and pulled Bethany into a tight embrace, whispering words into her ear before kissing her cheek and pulling away. Without looking back she started after the Grey Wardens.

"Be ready for _anything_," she warned.

She hoped it would be enough for the other two understand.

-==0==-

Misery smirked at the questioning look flashed at her by Varric. Janeka was cursing up a storm while Alec and the other guy prepared an impromptu pyre for their fallen comrade – one of the nameless ones Misery only referred to in her mind as the dagger wielder.

The march to Corypheus had been much easier on the group with the Grey Wardens out front to occupy the darkspawn. However, that wasn't what puzzled the dwarf. In fact, he'd already caught on that she was using the escort to put the darkspawn burden on the wardens instead of them. But what he hadn't expected was for her to literally not lift a finger to help during the fighting.

"About time someone other than us got to play the role of fodder, don't you think?" she answered in response to his silent question.

Varric continued to eye the rogue curiously. Her eyes reflected a gleam of amusement with the situation, but there was no warmth in her expression. It suddenly dawned on him.

He leaned in close and whispered, "We're not actually helping them, are we?" It was as much a statement as a question.

When she merely stared back as if the obviousness of that didn't warrant a verbal response, he nodded solemnly. He didn't disagree, and was even a little satisfied that she didn't intend to let them off the hook for the Carta business. But marching the wardens unknowingly to their deaths was also a reminder that Misery could be as brutally cold-blooded as it got.

Merrill approached wearing a grave expression. She handed a scroll to Misery, shaking her head. The rogue skimmed over it, scowling as she read. When she finished she passed it to Varric, who in turn passed it to Bethany when he was done. It was a remarkably well preserved letter dated 1014 TE, not long after the first Blight, from Warden-Commander Daneken to the First Warden.

The contents of the letter that never made it to its destination suggested a change of course on the Wardens' strategy with Corypheus. It described how the wardens assigned to guard or study Corypheus consistently fell under his influence and sought the key to free him, only to remember little to nothing of it once removed a safe distance. Some reported hearing a voice in their minds, a calling like that of the Old Gods. A voice that waned only once they were far enough from his presence.

The letter also reported that while a number of wardens had approached Corypheus intent on killing him, their hands were always stayed through his influence. It concluded with the recommendation that they seal the prison over and conceal its existence.

For Misery, the last part was the most troubling. She had intended to manipulate the situation such that the Grey Wardens would have no choice but to assist in killing Corypheus, but that was apparently out of the question now. Even worse, if they were present they would possibly be compelled to assist Corypheus. That wasn't going to work.

"Plan C?" Varric asked. "Or are we up to 'D' now?"

Misery sighed, gesturing for the others to come in close. In a quiet voice she said, "Alright, this is what we're going to do…"

-==0==-

Janeka screamed in frustration. The prison core, the location of Corypheus, was in sight across the bridge in front of them. Standing in the way, however, was _another_ wave of darkspawn. Being able to sense the presence of darkspawn, she and her men were generally able to avoid most confrontations down here. But being forced to fight through them in order to lead Hawke and her companions to Corypheus was taking a heavy physical toll. She'd already lost one man, and the remaining ones were wearing down.

It wasn't lost on the Grey Warden mage that Hawke not joining the fighting was paying her back for sending the Carta after her. So Janeka had personally made sure to begin letting darkspawn through in an effort to force Hawke and company to fight. Even still, it wasn't nearly as much help as she would have liked.

Hawke killing Larius coupled with the knowledge that her and her companions must be quite formidable to get this far had convinced Janeka to offer them a chance to escape immediate death at the end of this – the opportunity to go through the Joining and become Grey Wardens. After all, Corypheus was a Warden secret that must remain a Warden secret at all costs, especially once he was free of the prison and bound to her will. So even with Hawke's willing cooperation, neither she nor her companions were ever going to walk away from this and return to their prior lives.

Hawke's behavior, however, changed Janeka's mind about extending the offer. Now she resolved to kill Hawke herself once she had what she needed from the girl, and then test her control over Corypheus and his power by turning him loose on her companions. She could hardly wait… just as soon as they finished off the last darkspawn standing between them and the lone remaining seal. Hawke would break the seal, spill her blood with the key to raise Corypheus, and then _die_.

The anticipation fueled Janeka as she threw herself into battle with zeal, casting her assortment of offensive magic – some of it driven by blood. Her men weren't aware of the full extent of her plans regarding Hawke, but they supported the plan to use Corypheus. With the end in sight they fought tenaciously.

Varric glanced up at Misery. Despite the immediacy of the carnage taking place a couple of hundred feet in front of them, she was observing the action with all the interest of a bored noble taking in one of those overly self-indulgent Orlesian stage plays that always seemed to drag on a couple of acts too long, the kind no one really wanted to attend in the first place but did anyway for appearances sake.

He'd have found the look unnerving under the circumstances if not for the belief he had in her. He didn't doubt that she was ready.

As the number of darkspawn dwindled, Misery moved them closer to the action. That got them noticed, and several hurlocks broke away to charge them. Only one survived the onslaught of arrows, bolts, and ranged magic to reach them, but it was wounded enough to be easy pickings. Misery whacked it in the side of the head with bow, spun, and drove a knife into its throat.

"It's time," she said. "On my signal."

The rogue raised her hand and took a few steps forward. She watched Janeka with her staff in one hand and a knife in the other finish off a group of darkspawn. The Grey Warden mage then slashed her own forearm in order to draw once again on the power of blood for extra power. Janeka blasted two more genlocks that were closing in before moving to provide support to the warden swinging the greatsword.

With a downward flick of her arm, Misery set the plan in motion. Varric already had his target lined up and turned loose a triplet of bolts from Bianca. They slammed into the back of the unsuspecting Grey Warden archer, knocking him forward and down. The dwarf raced forward and continued to fire, hitting him a couple of more times before a hurlock finished him off.

Bethany centered a storm of fire on the Grey Warden swordarm, engulfing him and a trio darkspawn. Merrill's ensnare spell hit at roughly the same time, holding all of them in the blaze.

Janeka jumped back, her eyes wide in surprise before narrowing in anger as she realized what was going on. She circled behind the perimeter of the magical fire and then took off running towards Hawke, who was rapidly approaching. She stopped long enough to self-inflict another knife wound, intent on unleashing her most powerful spell. All she needed to do was survive this and she'd have the Hawke blood she needed to free Corypheus.

She winced from the sting of the blade slicing open her skin, but blocked the pain and looked up at Hawke while beginning to angrily chant out the words of her incantation. Before she could get them all out, however, the world turned silent. The smug expression on Hawke's face as she readied her bow brought a knowing scowl to the Warden's face.

"_Templar bitch!"_ she shouted, though no sound emerged from her throat to pierce the veil of silence.

Janeka dove to the side, narrowly avoiding the inbound arrow. She rolled to her feet and took off running the opposite direction, determined to live to fight another day.

Misery had other plans though. She dropped her bow and drew a dagger while sprinting after the mage. The older woman had neither the athleticism nor the endurance possessed by Misery, and it didn't take long before she was tackled from behind. She was barely aware of the pain from her face colliding with the stone floor or even that she could hear again before a dagger in the back of the neck cut off her life.

The rogue scrambled to her feet and checked behind her. Seeing her companions still mopping up the remnants of the darkspawn, she raced back to assist.

-==0==-

"Damn, Misery…" Varric muttered while shaking his head. "Even with advance warning, that silence spell or whatever was creepy."

Merrill nodded. "If that is what being deaf is like, I hope I never lose my hearing. I am happy I could at least hold off a darkspawn without my magic. Thank you, Varric, for helping me with it."

The dwarf nodded. Seeing that the other mage still appeared quite tense after the fighting, he tapped her on the arm.

"Come on, Sunshine, don't look so glum." When she made eye contact he gestured towards the tower spire at the end of the bridge. "We're not even to the sinister and foreboding part yet."

She smiled weakly. "This is it, isn't it?"

Misery waved them onward. "Let's get this over with so we can go home."

They crossed the remaining distance, stepping off the bridge and into another large circular room featuring four pillars surrounding a circular platform. This time, however, yellow beams of light reflected magic that linked the pillars around the center platform to other pillars at the far edges of the room. Misery walked past Janeka's dead body towards the first pillar.

"Ready?"

When the others nodded she held the dagger-key to the pillar and absorbed the magic. Unlike previous seals, doing so didn't cause the remaining three pillars to go dark. Misery glanced at the others in confusion before finally shrugging and moving on to the next pillar. She absorbed the magic into the key, but once again the remaining pillars held.

The tension increased as she absorbed the magic of the third pillar and approached the fourth.

"Last chance to change your mind!" Varric called out, trying to lighten the mood.

Misery glanced back long enough to shake her head at him, and then hit the last pillar. The visual manifestation of the magic swirled around the center platform before bursting in a bright flash, lighting up the four interior pillars.

Misery sighed, but strode with purpose to the center platform and touched the key to one of the pillars.

Nothing happened.

"Are we there yet?" Varric asked sarcastically.

"Don't make me use silence again," Misery replied in a tone that was unclear on whether or not she was serious. She stalked around the platform, her scowl deepening when none of the pillars responded to the key.

"Well, isn't this rather anticlimactic?" she said, sighing in exasperation. "Any ideas?"

Bethany climbed up on the platform and took the key from her sister. It only took a few seconds for them to see that the results were the same for her.

After several long moments, Merrill snapped her fingers. "Perhaps the key is not enough?"

When the others looked over to the elf, she continued, "The Carta and the Wardens spoke of needing both the key and Hawke blood. What if you were to… add a bit of blood to the blade?"

Bethany stared down at the blade in her hand and frowned deeply.

"Give me the dagger," Misery said. "You're not doing this."

"Sister… no, I'll do it. I told you… I can't live my life hiding behind you while you take all the risks."

"I said you're not doing this, and that's final."

Bethany responded by grasping the blade of the dagger with her free hand and squeezing, letting the blade slice open the palm of her hand and fingers.

Misery didn't have a chance to get angry, because as soon as the first droplets of blood hit the platform, the runes carved into the floor lit, forming lines connecting each of the pillars to the center. The yellow light that had dissipated as Misery absorbed magic earlier rose from the floor and swirled at an ever increasing velocity, coalescing and exploding outward. The force of the explosion sent both Hawkes flying from the platform and crashing to the ground.

Both girls got up slowly. Bethany rubbed the back of her head, nursing a nasty ache. Misery got up favoring her right arm, which she'd landed awkwardly on. Pain shot through it as she tried to flex it, causing her to fall to one knee while grunting loudly. She tried not to panic at the realization that she was in trouble.

They didn't have time to focus on their injuries, however, because in the aftermath of the magical explosion stood an ancient darkspawn – Corypheus.

"Be this some dream I wake from?" Corypheus asked no one in particular, looking around the room as if he wasn't sure where he was. "Am I in dwarven lands? Why seem their roads so empty?"

Despite his gruesome appearance, his tone was refined, carrying an air of sophistication. His eyes finally settled on the others in the room. "You! Serve you at the temple of Dumat?"

"Dumat?" Misery asked while slowly making her way towards the others.

"Oh, you know. Old God, first archdemon. Been dead for a thousand years or so?" Varric answered.

Merrill frowned. "I feel kind of sorry for him. He seems to have no awareness of time passing."

Misery got close to Merrill and whispered, "Use _anything_ at your disposal against him… even… blood magic."

She ignored the elf's shocked expression and pulled away. It wasn't that Misery was in favor of using blood magic. Though she wouldn't admit it to herself, she was afraid. Her own ability to fight had been severely compromised and she didn't remember anymore how to trust anyone's strength but her own. Fear twisted to rationalization - so much blood magic had been thrown around in this place that a little more didn't matter at this point.

Corypheus continued to frown. "Are you not citizens of the Empire?" His glare hardened as he took in the sight of Merrill. "Slaves then? Your Arlathan we scattered to the winds in the days of old. Why come you here?"

A low growl came from the elf. "I am not feeling so sorry for him anymore."

Misery next leaned over to her sister. "You'd damned well better survive this, because I'm going to kill you afterwards. I can't use my right arm thanks to you." She snatched the dagger out of the mage's hand.

Bethany gulped. "I can cast a healing spell…"

"Forget it… I'm going to need a healer to put my elbow back where it belongs first. Now move to the far side and be ready to attack."

When no one answered him, Corypheus kept monologuing. "Whoever you be, you owe fealty to any magister of Tevinter. On your knees! All of you!"

Varric shook his head. "I think you're a little confused. See, the Empire fell more than a thousand years ago."

"Not to mention you're a darkspawn," Misery added.

Corypheus' eyes locked on to Misery before drifting to Bethany and back. "You… you are what held me. Both of you. I smell the blood in you." He turned his back and looked upwards. "Dumat! My lord, what waking dream is this? The light… We sought the golden light. You offered… the power of the gods themselves. But it was… black… corrupt. Darkness… ever since. How long?"

Varric whistled. "I kind of thought Blondie was full of shit about this whole First Magister thing. Guess I'll have to buy him a round next time I see him."

The raven haired rogue glared, motioning for him to move off to the side while starting in the opposite direction. The mention of Anders brought all sorts of conflict to her mind that she had to force aside. Now was not the time to dwell on the man she found both nearly unbearable to deal with yet incredibly valuable to have around.

Corypheus was beginning to become visibly agitated, pacing back and forth and calling out to a non-existent Dumat. Seeking to take him by surprise, Misery dashed towards him while his back was turned, launching herself into the air while winding up to plant her blade in his back.

As if sensing her, Corypheus spun and lashed out with magic, his movements even faster than the human female. He caught her in mid-air, effortlessly swatting her aside. Misery barely avoided falling on her own blade in a crash landing that was every bit as awkward as earlier.

"Sister!" Bethany shouted, racing over to cover her from any follow up.

A pair of bolts from Bianca drew the magister turned darkspawn's attention from the females, and Varric barely rolled out of the way before a bolt of lightning scorched the ground where he'd been standing. Bouncing to his feet, he darted for cover while firing on the run.

Corypheus turned back towards the Hawkes, his hands beginning to glow as he summoned power. Anticipating the attack, Bethany stood in front of her sister and chanted quickly, forming a magic barrier in front of her. The darkspawn's dual energy blasts shattered the barrier, the collapse of which created a shockwave that sent Bethany tumbling backwards over Misery.

Corypheus levitated above the platform, calling out for the power of Dumat.

Merrill fired a bolt of lightning at him, which he seemed to shrug off with no ill effects. Scowling, she glanced quickly around the room. Spying the Grey Warden mage's fresh corpse on the ground close by, Merrill closed her eyes briefly and began siphoning the power of its blood. She drew the blood out, redirecting it into her own magic that she lashed out at Corypheus with. The attack caused him to seize up, interrupting his spellcasting.

Misery, not seeing what Merrill was doing, invoked silence a few seconds later in an attempt to stop Corypheus before the power he was raising could manifest itself. She succeeded in cutting off the darkspawn's ability to draw on magic, but also interrupted her elven companion's magic in the process.

Free from the elf's blood bind, Corypheus ran towards her. Merrill wasn't yet conditioned to react instinctively to the temporary loss of access to her magic, and that moment of hesitation was costly. Corypheus hit her hard, knocking the physically slight elf into a sprawling heap. He swung again and the talon-like fingers of his clawed hand shredded her tunic and ripped open gashes down her back.

Another bolt from Bianca slammed into his back, but he recovered and maintained his focus on finishing the elf. He drew back to attack her again, but as he began to swing his arm forward Misery dove in from the side. Her attempted tackle merely knocked him off balance while sending her reeling, but it at least prevented the physically tougher than he looked darkspawn from getting in another shot on the defenseless elf.

Misery scrambled to her feet as Corypheus turned his attention to her. She intercepted his attack with a slash of the blade in her left hand, scoring flesh, and then automatically went for the knife above her right hip. It was a maneuver that she'd performed too many times to count. This time, however, her right arm screamed in protest and the jolt of pain stopped the rogue in her tracks.

She barely shifted her weight in time to keep the full force of Corypheus' next strike from connecting with her head. The movement of air across her face told her just how close it had come. She backpedaled away, trying to gain a moment to refocus.

Bethany aided that by hitting Corypheus in the back of the head with her staff, drawing his attention. To the mage's surprise, Corypheus didn't appear overly hurt by a blow that would have killed most foes. Instead, the former magister whirled around on her. A bubble formed around him and burst outward in a shockwave that knocked her back and on to the ground.

Varric sprinted in closer, determined to get a clean look. He hit Corypheus a couple of more times while managing to avoid hitting Misery, but to his dismay the darkspawn continued to appear as if Bianca's bolts were of no consequence.

Suddenly the pall of silence was lifted, and with that Corypheus abandoned the melee battle in favor of returning to the center of the summoning platform. He all but ignored them while chanting out in worship to Dumat.

"It's no good!" Varric shouted. "Our attacks aren't putting a dent in him!"

Merrill shook her head, still trying to catch her breath. "B-before the s-silence… I was hurting him with magic… bl-blood magic."

"Then do it now!" Misery exclaimed. "Before he kills us with _his _magic!"

Bethany didn't like the plan, but there was no time to protest. Instead she ran back to her previous position, forming a triangle between herself, Merrill, and Corypheus. Then she began casting her strongest ice spell, hoping to freeze the darkspawn in place. Corypheus responded with a blast of magic of his own, forcing Bethany to abandon her spell and dive out of the way.

Merrill resumed drawing on the blood from Janeka's body, once again causing Corypheus to seize up. Bethany and Varric took advantage and bombarded him with magic and bolts respectively. Misery stayed back, where she was both out of the way of the attacks being directed at Corypheus and in position to cover Merrill if he charged her again. She was out of incendiary grenades and desperately wished she could use her bow.

It wasn't long before Merrill's magic began to fizzle.

"What's wrong?" Misery demanded.

"It-it's not enough. I need more. I can draw upon my own blood, but only for a short time."

Misery scowled. "Can you draw upon mine without killing me?"

The elf's eyes grew wide. "Y-y-yes…"

"Then do it!"

Merrill felt a rush of pride at the trust Misery was placing in her and became even more determined. She drew simultaneously on her own blood and Misery's. It was an intoxicating amount of power, more than she'd ever wielded at one time. She gathered the energy and flung her arms out in Corypheus' direction.

Misery almost immediately felt lightheaded, which quickly turned dizzying and was then accompanied by nausea. She tried to hang on, but as Merrill pulled harder her vision began to dim and she was forced to her hands and knees. She could feel consciousness slipping away and tried to cry out for the elf to stop, but no words came out.

Bethany and Varric continued to pound away at Corypheus while Merrill was using the magic fueled by her and Misery's blood to rend him from within. The darkspawn struggled to fight back, catching Varric with a concussive blast that left him wounded and disoriented.

Bethany leapt up on to the platform. She twirled the staff in her hands and used the momentum generated to drill Corypheus in the side of the head, following up with a discharge of flame. Corypheus swung wildly, but Bethany parried with her staff and immediately countered with a strike that caught him flush in the jaw.

Gritting her teeth in anger, Bethany drew deeper from her already low mana pool and inflicted horrific visions on the darkspawn before bashing him in the head again.

Corypheus began to convulse. Bethany didn't let up, continuing to alternate between physical and magical attacks. She was exhausted, but knew with her sister and Varric down and that damned blood mage faltering that she was their last stand.

Varric dragged himself to a kneeling position, shaking his head as he tried to get his bearings. He shook the disorientation just in time to look up and see Corypheus crouching down while gathering what appeared to be a large amount of energy. The darkspawn magister whirled back towards the younger Hawke and Varric opened his mouth to scream in warning. But it was too late.

Bethany unleashed the largest bolt of energy she'd ever channeled through her staff. The magic blast collided with Corypheus' and detonated the ball of energy in his hands. The resulting explosion threw the female mage from the platform like a rag doll. She bounced and rolled before coming to a stop and not initially moving.

Something else flying through the air caught Varric's attention as it hit the ground near him. He looked down to see one of Corypheus' arms, severed in the explosion. The former magister only struggled a moment longer before falling.

Varric ran up on to the platform and put half a dozen bolts in Corypheus' head just to make sure he was dead. Seeing Daisy already kneeling down to check on Misery, he went to Bethany. He rolled her over, getting scared because her eyes were closed and her body was limp.

"Come on, Sunshine. Come back to me…"

Bethany's eyes opened very slowly. "Did I get him?"

Varric let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding and began laughing. He reached down and pushed the hair out of her eyes. "You got him. It's over."

A smile briefly took hold before remembering her sister wiped it from her face. Mentally fighting through the fatigue and aches, she pulled herself to her feet and quickly moved to her sister's side, shoving Merrill out of the way in the process.

"Stay away from her!" Bethany demanded.

Merrill's eyes opened wide. "Wh-what?"

Bethany started to become frantic that her sister wasn't responding. "How could you do this to her?" she screamed.

"Do what?" Varric asked.

"Blood magic!" the younger Hawke hissed angrily. "I saw Merrill sucking the life right out of her!"

"Daisy?"

"Sh-she t-told me to… and… and I-I didn't kill her! She will wake soon…"

"You'd better hope so…" Bethany warned in an ominous tone.

"Whoa, Sunshine, slow down," Varric said, gesturing for her to relax. "You can't really think she would do something like that to Misery on her own?"

"I don't know what to think! I only know my sister is unconscious and could easily be dead thanks to that blood mage! Just… just get away from me… go find something productive to do, like making sure we're safe for now."

She leaned forward until her forehead was resting on her sister's and began whispering to her, mixing in the occasional healing spell for good measure.

Varric shook his head but didn't say anything in reply. Instead he grabbed the stunned elf's arm and pulled her away from the Hawkes.

-==0==-

Misery awoke to the feverish feeling of simultaneously burning up and shivering. She groaned, attempting for only a moment to rise before giving up.

"Don't even think about getting up," Bethany said sharply.

Misery slowly turned her head in the direction of the voice. "Not like I'm in any condition to anyway. So… we won? Huh…"

Varric laughed. "You should've seen Sunshine, she literally tore Corypheus apart at the end. If I didn't know better I'd say _she _was the magister in that fight."

Bethany merely scoffed. She wasn't in the mood to joke around.

"Awww, come on, Sunshine," Varric said, chuckling. He knew her mood was foul but was hoping she'd lighten up now that Misery was awake. "It has to be bragging rights at this point that you're the one keeping _her _alive. Keep that up and she's gonna have to start treating you like an equal."

Misery closed her eyes. "Yeah, well, I didn't think Merrill was going to kill me."

Bethany growled at the confirmation that her sister was complicit in Merrill's little stunt. "You didn't _think_ at all!"

"Shut up, Bethany," the older girl answered, though the weariness took much of the edge off her tone.

Trying to head off a fight between them with humor, Varric said, "First Corypheus goes after the Maker in His house, then the Hawkes in theirs. Pretty high company you girls keep."

"I suppose there's no point in keeping it secret any longer… I'm Andraste," Misery deadpanned.

"For some reason I find myself not exactly doubting you on that. Though that puts a whole new spin on those Andraste fondling jokes."

Bethany huffed and stormed off.

Varric shook his head, his mirth fading. "You scared her, you know? And got Daisy in trouble."

"Where is Merrill anyway?"

"Over at the far side of the chamber sitting by herself."

"Why?"

"It might be better if she tells you herself."

Misery sighed. "Go get her then… please."

While Varric retrieved the elf, Misery managed to push herself up into a sitting position.

"It is good that you are awake," Merrill said softly.

Misery looked up to see that the elf was staring at the ground and fidgeting nervously. "What's going on?"

Merrill opened her mouth to reply but closed it without saying anything. A few seconds later the tears she'd been trying to hold back began to flow.

"I-I am so sorry…" she said, her voice a hoarse whisper.

"For?"

"T-taking too much from you… I m-mean, you did not d-die, I swear that… but I did not mean for you to… I just… I'm sorry."

Misery nodded slowly. "Don't plan on ever doing that to me again… no permanent harm done though?"

"None," Merrill answered quickly, almost too quickly. "An-and… I set your arm while you were asleep… I have a little training in that sort of thing."

Misery looked down at her arm, flexing it. It still hurt, but was at least usable again. "Thank you."

After silence settled in, Varric cleared his throat. Misery glanced up at him, and then over to Merrill when he nodded in her direction. The elf was crying again. Misery raised an eyebrow curiously.

"What is it you haven't told me?" she asked cynically.

Merrill shook her head. "I am just glad you are alright. Bethany worried… that you would not be… she-"

"She what?" Misery asked when Merrill abruptly stopped speaking and fixed her eyes on a point above the rogue's head.

"I threatened to kill her if you weren't," Bethany answered matter-of-factly from behind the rogue.

Misery closed her eyes and bowed her head sadly. This wasn't Bethany. She never wanted Bethany to become hardened like her. Yet how could she expect anything else when she'd consistently encouraged her to steel her bleeding heart? It was ridiculously contradictory, but it still pained Misery to see her little sister succumb to her influence.

"Bethany… if you want to be angry about the blood magic, be angry at me. I told her to do it."

"Oh, don't worry. I am plenty mad at you too."

"I did what I had to. Under the circumstances it was the most useful way I could contribute."

"So as usual, you had to play the martyr - to the Void with everyone else if you died!" Bethany replied bitterly.

Misery rubbed her temples wearily. "Done yet? Got it all out of your system?"

"Do not patronize me!" Bethany exclaimed, stomping her foot in anger.

Misery couldn't help but smirk at the pouty expression on the girl's face. "Or what, you'll tell Mother?"

Bethany scowled briefly, but it faded to resignation soon after. "No… you know I won't… I won't give her more to use against you…"

Misery reached up and grabbed her sister's wrist and tugged until the girl leaned over enough to be hugged. "And that's why you'll always be better than me. Don't forget that."

The younger girl didn't reply. Instead she returned the hug even more vehemently, exhaling a long breath in relief that Miri was okay.

Varric chuckled, prompting Misery to open her eyes and glance up. "What?"

"Oh, just thinking… this ending kinda sucks for such an epic tale, you know? I think when I retell it I'm going to have the heroes flying off into the sunset on the backs of griffons."

"Ooh, griffons!" Merrill exclaimed in excitement, the tension of a few moments earlier already forgotten. "Can we name mine 'Feathers'?"

"Consider it done, Daisy. Consider it done."

* * *

><p><em>AN: I know there are at least a few readers that haven't played Legacy, so I thought I'd point out here a couple of the bigger changes I made. In-game you're forced to side with either Larius or Janeka and can't go scorched earth like Misery did, which can be pretty annoying when you have enough clues to know Janeka is the Carta's benefactor and Larius coerced Malcolm Hawke into cooperating. Also, in-game the battle with Corypheus is a series of cheap, tricked up stages that make little sense<em> when you stop to think about it <em>other than artificially ramping up the difficulty. That said, I love the Legacy DLC. It's probably my favorite DLC from any game._

_Just a heads up to everyone that I'm going to end 'Hurtled into Chaos' in a few chapters after the Deep Roads expedition._

_Wait, what?_

_Hey! That isn't what I meant! Stop throwing things at me!_

_Ahem... basically we're running long and will be over 200K words just for Act I, so in the interest of not turning this into a single 500K monstrosity and potentially scaring off new readers, I'm going to pick up the start of Act II in a new story that's tentatively titled 'The Precipice of Change'. That'll also let me overcome some story difficulties with having three years elapse between acts. When we get to Act III down the road I'll do the same thing, turning Misery Hawke's story into a trilogy._

_In all seriousness, I still intend to see this story through all three acts, so no worries about me dropping the story. Hopefully everyone will come along to the next act/story in a few chapters :)_


	27. A New Hope

It was mid-afternoon when the quartet of adventurers pushed through the front door of the Hanged Man, seventeen days removed from their departure from this very location. Much to their chagrin, fatigue, recovering from injury, and bad weather had conspired to make the return leg from Corypheus' prison take nearly twice as long as the journey there. The experience was enough to leave all of them dreading the upcoming expedition.

Typical for this time of day, the main room was sparsely populated. A few hardcore drunks loitered near the bar, while a handful of merchants from the nearby Lowtown Bazaar occupied a table. That suited Varric, because it meant she wouldn't be busy. A grin formed on his face when she caught sight of him and shook her head while smirking.

"Hey, Norah," he called out to her while making a motion with his hand as if drawing a circle around himself and his companions. "Food and drink for all of us, please. We'll take it up in my room."

The busty brunette barmaid rose from the bench she'd been camped on. "You want the leftover pastries from breakfast to go with it?"

"As if you even have to ask," he replied, winking.

"Hey!" one of the men at the bar exclaimed. "We been 'ere all day! How come ya didn't offer 'em to us?"

Norah didn't even spare the man a glance as she strode by. "As if you even have to ask," she answered dismissively.

-==0==-

After her third trip upstairs to deliver food and drink, Norah flopped down in Varric's easy chair and withdrew a small message book from the pocket of her apron.

"Want your messages now?" After eyeing the others she added, "Or do this later?"

Varric chuckled. "I suppose these ladies can hear anything that isn't too sensitive."

"Uh huh… anyway, you've apparently been testing the limits of your brother's patience. The blowhard's empty threats are getting louder by the day."

"Bartrand actually lowered himself to come down here looking for me? I almost feel honored enough not to put off seeing him for a few more days."

Norah scoffed. "Hardly. He sends lackeys on his behalf. They're here a couple times a day, so good luck avoiding them."

"Half surprising he didn't leave on the expedition without us," Misery remarked between bites.

Varric laughed. "He would have if I'd been dumb enough to give him your gold in advance." With a wink he added, "I made sure he couldn't pay for all of the equipment and supplies he has on order until we were back."

Turning back to Norah, he nodded. "What else?"

"Some haughty elf named Tallis has been skulking around entirely too much. She's wanted to speak with you regarding the whereabouts of Misery. I told her you were away, but didn't tell her Misery was with you."

Varric glanced over at his fellow rogue. "Change your mind about giving that job to Rivaini?"

"No, just kind of forgot about it. I'll find out if Mother still has the invitation, and if so I'll pass it to Isabela to do whatever she wants with." She looked at Norah. "You called Tallis 'haughty'. Has she been causing problems? I don't really know her to be honest."

"Other than the little knife-eared bitch not knowing her place? No…" she answered, not bothering to hide her disdain for elves in front of the Dalish girl.

Merrill closed her eyes briefly at the racial slur but held her tongue. She had already learned that humans like the Hawkes that accepted elves as equals were the exception, not the rule. Still, she hadn't been in the city long enough to be completely desensitized to hearing the slur like the others, who gave no reaction at all to it.

Norah looked down at her notes and continued, "A Lady Amell came looking for you two days ago. She wouldn't say what for."

Bethany glanced over at her sister, not at all surprised to see her gritting her teeth in annoyance at the name.

"That's our mother," Bethany said. "Most likely getting worried enough about how long we've been gone to begin checking with people we know. I wonder if Aveline went by to see her."

"The guard-captain was here maybe a week ago talking to that Rivaini girl. I didn't catch enough of their conversation to get anything useful."

"No worries," Varric said, waving his hand. "What else?"

Norah's brow furrowed as she looked down at her memos and then back up. "The rest are probably things you'll want to hear about later."

Varric nodded in understanding. As close as he was becoming to the Hawkes and even Daisy, not all of his business was for their ears. "Fair enough… thanks."

After the barmaid left, Bethany threw Varric a quizzical glance. "Does Norah do that for you all the time? Take messages and such I mean?"

He shrugged noncommittally at first, then finally relented and nodded.

"Seems awfully nice of her to do that, as busy as she always is," Merrill said. "Is she your lady friend?"

Misery rolled her eyes. "She's obviously on his payroll."

When Varric looked at her in slight surprise, she smirked. "You're not the only one with observational skills. Even when we're at a table downstairs she's attentive and doesn't bitch at us the way she does nearly everyone."

He chuckled. "Yeah, well, you'd think that with me paying her better than Corff does, she would get my order right more often. Oh… and no, Daisy, it's strictly professional. That's an entanglement I don't need and she's not exactly my type anyway."

"Oh?" Bethany asked playfully. "You have a type? What kind of girl draws your eye?"

The dwarf's eyes gleamed with mischief as he leaned forward. "I'll admit it… I'm a sucker for the ones that turn into dragons."

"Flemeth? You're lying!" Bethany replied. Her pouty expression drew laughter.

"Of course I am. Sunshine, you should know by now, lying is what I do. Besides, you wouldn't want to see Bianca getting all jealous and twitchy right after we finally made it back would you?"

Bethany stuck her tongue out at him but didn't press further.

Merrill changed the subject. "Norah said Aveline was here a week ago? They made much better time than us."

"Probably beat the storms," Misery remarked, shrugging.

"Will you go see her?" Merrill asked. "Aveline, I mean? I would find it difficult after she left us the way she did."

"She had her reasons," Bethany answered. "She had her duty to consider."

The elf scowled slightly. "Misery would not have left her behind for _any _reason."

The female rogue raised an eyebrow curiously. She could tell Merrill was developing a rather intense loyalty to her, which was something she appreciated even while not understanding the full implications of it. Instead of saying anything in reply, however, Misery was content to let silence take hold while she ate. After more than two weeks of constant company, she had little left to say and just wanted to finish up and get home for a long stretch of uninterrupted sleep.

-==0==-

Bethany laughed gleefully as the three women made their way outside of the Hanged Man.

"I can't believe you got him to blush!" she exclaimed, backhanding her sister in the shoulder playfully.

As the women stood to leave, Misery had hooked her arm around Varric's neck and pulled him into an unexpected embrace as she thanked him for all of his help. Despite the brevity of it, the gesture had left him awkwardly fumbling for something to say.

"He didn't seem certain of how to respond," Merrill added.

Misery smirked while continuing to walk towards Gamlen's place. "It _was _rather abrupt. I figure at first he thought I was attacking him. I mean, it's _me _after all."

"Pfft-" Bethany exhaled. "As much as you try to convince people otherwise, you really can be affectionate with those you care about."

"Right… because when people think of me, they obviously think of someone who is going to spontaneously hug them," Misery answered sarcastically.

"You hug me all the time," Bethany noted. "And Revas."

"Like either of you even count."

"Do I count?" Merrill asked. "You have hugged me too."

Misery frowned, drawing more laughter from Bethany.

"Come on, Sister, you don't have to act like it's a bad thing! Besides, it suits you."

"Suits me? How do you figure that?"

"Well… it says a lot to the person without needing to actually put those feelings into words. That suits your personality. I just wish you'd let others see that side of you more often."

Misery sighed, shaking her head. "It's too dangerous."

"Letting people know you care about them is dangerous? How does that make any sense?" Bethany asked incredulously.

"I'd rather not encourage people to get close to me. When I begin to trust someone I lower my guard, which exposes you to more risk and seems to bite me in the ass."

Bethany bit her bottom lip tensely. "That is not fair…" she said quietly, her tone reflecting bitterness. "Not fair to you to live that way, and not fair to lay the knowledge that I'm the cause of it at my feet."

"Fairness is irrelevant, Bethany. You know what the stakes are. And you will _not _feel guilty about it. You sacrifice a normal life just as much as I do."

While that was true, Bethany understood the key difference. She had to sacrifice a normal life because of herself. Miri's sacrifice, however, was also because of Bethany - not because of herself. And no amount of being ordered not to feel guilty was going to change the reality of those feelings. She chose not to verbalize that though, and instead fell silent as they continued through Lowtown.

Merrill had mixed feelings about what Misery said. On the one hand, she knew Misery had shown her an increasing level of trust. On the other hand, Misery essentially said she didn't like it. That left the elf feeling happy that Misery trusted her anyway, but worried that she'd resent her for it.

"You needn't worry that I will dishonor your trust…" Merrill said softly while staring at the ground in front of her. "That is not my people's way. I promise you this… you will have to betray me first."

Misery stopped, sighing while running her fingers through her hair. "I believe you…"

She paused to collect her thoughts before continuing, "I can barely remember a time when I was able do anything without needing to worry about the consequences to my family."

"Sister…" Bethany began, but Misery waved her off.

"That I call you, Varric, and Aveline _friends_ is a leap of faith for me, as stupid as that may sound." She turned her attention to Bethany, reaching over and grasping her shoulder as she made eye contact.

"Look… I can't control people, so it's always been easiest for me not to give anyone any knowledge to use against us rather than having to worry about what they might do with it. I am… _trying_ to find a balance between that and compromising you… but that isn't something you can force on me."

Bethany sighed. "That's better than nothing I suppose. Though I still don't like you being a martyr for me."

"Call me what you will," Misery answered dismissively while pulling away. "Misery Hawke, Martyr Hawke, whatever. I'm not asking you to like it."

Bethany glanced at Merrill and shook her head in frustration before the two fell in on either side of the rogue.

The mood was still weighed down when they reached Gamlen's hovel and could hear the shouts coming from within. Another argument between their mother and uncle.

Bethany sighed, her already depressed mood worsening. "Isn't this lovely to come home to?"

Misery scowled. "Come on, Merrill, I'll walk you home. Maybe those two will be done by the time I get back."

"Sister…" Bethany started.

"I'm not dealing with this right now." She cynically added, "Besides, it'll let Mother focus on you for a bit without me being in the way." She took her pack off and dumped it at Bethany's feet. "Take this inside for me. No sense in lugging it to Merrill's and back."

She didn't wait for a response before walking off, leaving Bethany frustrated almost to the point of tears.

-==0==-

Leandra tapped her foot in irritation, shaking her head at her brother while continuing to stand with her arms folded across her chest. She was annoyed at his obstinate refusal to move back to their Hightown estate now that she'd gotten it back.

Too many bad memories he'd claimed. Too far from his part-time job. Didn't want the hassle of living in Hightown again. Didn't want to deal with the nobles looking down their noses at him slinking back to the home he'd lost. Wanted the peace and quiet of his own place again, where living alone he neither answered to anyone nor had to consider other occupants if he wanted to bring home _company_.

His protests hadn't stopped Leandra from pestering him about it in the days since Seneschal Bran informed her that the estate was hers again. The arguments were becoming a daily occurrence. This argument, however, was interrupted when the door opened. Both of their heads immediately turned in that direction.

"Bethany!" Leandra gasped excitedly.

She took a couple of steps towards her daughter before realizing something was amiss. Her eyes flitted between the forlorn expression on the girl's face and the second pack she was lugging behind her. The joy she'd felt a moment earlier faded as Bethany pushed the door closed behind her, an act confirming she'd come home alone. Fearing the worst, grief quickly swelled within the older woman.

"No… Oh, Maker, no… please, no…" she whispered hoarsely. "What happened? Why… why are you… wh-where is Mireille?"

Bethany's eyes opened wide in shock, realizing the conclusion her mother had obviously drawn from her entrance. "No, no, Mother, she's fine. She's… walking Merrill home."

Revas, who had risen from his spot when the girl entered, bolted to the door and barked insistently. That drew a brief smile out of Bethany, who nodded.

"Of course you can go with her…" she said, reopening the door to let him out. "They aren't far yet."

The mage had barely closed the door after him before being embraced by her mother. In the meantime, Gamlen took the girl's arrival as his cue to retreat to his room.

"I am so relieved that you are both safe," Leandra whispered. "I was worried when you were gone for so long… after Aveline had already returned… and then when you came in alone…" She took and released a deep breath. "Is… is it all over?"

"It's over… for good this time. Let me get a bath and clean clothes and I'll tell you about it."

Leandra let her go and nodded, smiling brightly. "I will save it until your sister is here, but I have a something big to tell you as well."

Walking towards the bedroom, Bethany thought about Miri missing out on seeing Mother's concerned reaction, and could only imagine what Aveline had already told her regarding Miri's behavior. She sighed lightly, pushing her own irritation with her sister aside.

"_Please_ go easy on Miri. You know she's going to act like nothing is bothering her, but the entire journey really took a toll on her. She needs your support, to hear from you how you felt when you saw me come in by myself."

Leandra frowned. "Aveline told me of Mireille's nightmare, that she was paranoid about you dying and obsessed with preventing it, even at the expense of her own life. She also mentioned that you encountered a demon in the Grey Warden tower and heard Malcolm's voice afterwards."

Leandra didn't mention it, but Aveline had also encouraged her to handle her eldest gently. She hated the thought that their relationship was broken to the point where others felt she needed to be advised on how to manage her own daughter.

Bethany nodded while dropping the equipment packs on the bedroom floor. "Father left his mark in several places we found. I think it was his way of leaving a legacy behind, a way of setting the record straight in case this very thing happened with the Grey Wardens going after his family."

"I… I must know. Was he really involved with demons and blood magic? I just cannot picture my Malcolm working blood magic."

"He did… but not willingly. The Grey Wardens told him he'd never see you again if he didn't cooperate. Father's last message was to you, saying that all he did was for you and Miri. And… that he hoped you never found out. He sounded… ashamed of what he'd been forced to do."

Leandra put her face in her hands. "Oh, Malcolm… I am so sorry you had to go through that…"

Bethany embraced her mother once more. "He loved you more than anything. I admit, after all we went through, it hurt hearing Norah tell Varric that Lady Amell inquired about his whereabouts. I think I finally understand a little of what makes Miri so angry sometimes. I…I know we are Amells and you have every right to be proud of that heritage, but please don't cast the Hawke name aside. Father meant too much to all of us, and us to him."

Leandra pulled back, gasping. "You two think that's what I have been doing? Casting him aside?"

"Not me really… not before today anyway. Miri? Yeah…" She shook her head. "I wish you two would just talk to each other."

"I… suppose that is what it has looked like, hasn't it?" Leandra sighed. "That was not my intent. Perhaps it was misguided, but I had hoped the Amell name still carried enough weight to be a sorely needed advantage for us. And… perhaps being back in Kirkwall, knowing Malcolm could never be with us… did cause me to dwell too much on recovering what I had left behind. But I am also proud to be a Hawke. Even should I ever remarry, I will still be an Amell and a Hawke."

Bethany smiled. "I know with Carver gone Father's line ends with us, but it'd still be nice for the name Hawke mean something in Kirkwall before that time comes."

That statement drew Leandra's thoughts away from the current conversation, and an idea began to form and take shape.

"Perhaps it is not too late for the Hawkes to have a new beginning in Kirkwall… a new beginning in a new but familiar home."

Bethany's eyes opened wide. "D-does that mean you got the estate back?"

"You were not supposed to make me spoil that surprise," she answered, smiling warmly. "So act surprised when I tell your sister. And save any questions until then. Now… go get a bath so you can tell me all about your adventures."

-==0==-

Misery entered the front room of Uncle Gamlen's place to the sounds of laughter coming from the bedroom. Her own mood had been lifted by the time spent alone with Revas, and she was glad not to have it spoiled right away by coming home to more bickering. Revas trotted ahead of her into the room while she quietly followed.

"Don't mind me," she said in response to the stares of the two women sitting on the lower bunk, whose conversation had stopped with her arrival.

She began the process of removing her bow and quiver, unstrapping the quartet of blades sheathed to her legs and belt, and hanging each on the makeshift weapon rack she'd fashioned on the wall of the room. She paused momentarily before hanging the last one – the dagger-key.

On the journey home she had spent quite a bit of her downtime staring at it and reflecting. Here, however, her more immediate thought was how freaking ugly and impractical the thing was. It was only all the absorbed magic that made it a formidable weapon.

Whoever designed it clearly had no idea what a dagger was used for, as it didn't even have a good point for stabbing. Instead the smith had fashioned the end of the blade into the profile of a bird of prey, complete with a long pointy beak that jutted out sideways. That ensured the dagger was equally worthless as a dual slashing weapon, as the stupid "beak" was liable to get stuck in whatever it connected with.

Misery had quickly figured out in the Deep Roads that she could effectively only slash with it along the edge opposite the "beak." If not for the connection to her father she wouldn't have even attempted to use it in battle. And afterwards it was still only that connection that took away the urge to sell the dagger, knowing that a "unique" enchanted blade such as this would command a high price from some idiot with more gold than brains.

Still, she wondered if it would be possible to have the blade reforged into something more useful without losing the enchantments in the process. If not, it would have to be relegated to a wall decoration. Her thoughts were interrupted when she was grabbed from behind and turned.

"Ummm… hello?" Misery said as her mother wrapped her arms around her.

Leandra exhaled a long breath. "That was not nice, you know, sending your sister in alone… carrying your pack. I thought you were dead!"

"Well, as I'm sure you've heard by now, not being dead isn't for a lack of trying," she answered sarcastically.

"Yes… You don't know how much that scared me."

The younger woman sighed. "You were correct about the Grey Wardens being the ones after us. They were behind the corrupted dwarves. We took care of every last one of them, as well as the source of the problem. It's done."

"I know, Love. Bethany told me. I am so proud of you. Your father would be too."

Misery's eyes flicked over to her sister, who shook her head. "I told her everything we learned about Father, but beyond that I left out the more unpleasant _details_."

Misery nodded. Bethany's point was clear – she didn't divulge the contentious issue of Misery allowing herself to fuel blood magic.

Misery finally allowed herself to relax in her mother's embrace. "Thank you," she said softly.

After several long moments Leandra pulled back and smiled warmly. "I have a surprise for you." When her eldest only raised an eyebrow quizzically, she continued, "Seneschal Bran sent official word, the estate is ours again!"

"That's great… but… why are you still here then?"

"Oh, it will be next week before it is ready for us to move in. The _occupants_ were given ten days to vacate. I do not doubt they will leave behind a big mess of things we will need to have cleaned, repaired, or tossed, but I can hardly wait."

Misery frowned slightly. "I will need to find help for you. Not only in getting the place straightened out and set up, but to maintain it."

"The three of us should be able to do the initial cleanup. Maybe Aveline and Merrill would be willing to help us."

Misery resisted the urge to outwardly express her shock at her mother implying she would be getting her hands dirty with manual labor. That wasn't something the older woman had shown any inclination towards since they'd left Ferelden. Instead she replied, "Bethany and I have Bartrand's expedition coming up. I would expect we'll be leaving around the time the estate is available to you."

"What?" Leandra asked incredulously. "Why? Why are you going back to the Deep Roads now that we have the estate back? It is too dangerous!"

"I made a commitment and I will follow through on it," Misery answered.

"And you think this dwarf would not back out on you if the situation was reversed?"

"Since when is our word something to be given and taken on a whim? You taught us not to give our word unless we meant it, and once we do to honor it."

Bethany nodded. "She's right, Mother. You would do no less."

Leandra sighed in resignation. "Of course… you are right. But you both need not go in order to keep your word."

Misery knew what she was implying, and was so conditioned to her role and its responsibilities that she felt no bitterness over it. "Bethany will stay and help you with the estate while I am away."

"What?" Bethany exclaimed, jumping to her feet. "That's not fair! Don't I get a say in this?"

"Mother is right. It's an unnecessary risk for us both to go. If something happens to me you'll still be here for her. And she needs help with the estate anyway."

Bethany glared, clenching her fists in anger. "You know what I'm getting you for your birthday next year? One of those little toy swords. That way whenever you feel the need to be like this you can go fall on it without actually hurting yourself!"

With a huff the younger girl stormed from the room and out the front door, slamming it shut behind her.

Leandra simply stared at Mireille, who was giggling like a lunatic.

"You have to give her credit, that was a pretty good parting shot," Misery said after collecting herself. "Though I am willing to bet she got that line from Varric."

Leandra sighed. "I know she wants to be her own woman. I really wish there was something I could do for her. Perhaps I can work on finding her a husband after we are settled in."

"She would like that. I'm not sure I would know what to do with myself though if I didn't have her to look out for all the time."

"Hah! Maybe you could start paying more attention to _your_ appearance so _you _can find a husband. I have never seen such a beautiful girl with such an utter disregard for how she presents herself. We have been here almost two years and I doubt you have even a single prospect at this point."

Misery rolled her eyes. "Prospects? The three men in my life are an abomination Bethany already tried and cut loose, an angry mage-hating elven former slave who can't remember a significant portion of his life, and a dwarf that… that… hmmm… that I can't really think of anything negative about other than his height."

"Apparently grandchildren are going to be too much to ask for, aren't they?"

When Misery didn't seem inclined to answer, her expression turned more serious. "Mireille… I was thinking… we are Amells and I do not want to forget that heritage. However, I believe it would be appropriate for the estate to bear the Hawke name going forward. And I intend to place the ownership of it in your name. You have led our family, and though we haven't often seen eye to eye these last few years, I want you to know how proud I am of you."

Misery's jaw dropped, her mouth falling open in shock. "I-I don't know what to say…" she said hoarsely.

"You say _thank you_," Leandra answered while pulling her daughter into another embrace. "Perhaps after you return from your expedition… you and I could set aside our differences and make a fresh start?"

"I would like that," Misery whispered, beginning to lose the battle not to choke up.

"Me too, Love. Me too."

-==0==-

Fenris glanced up curiously at the naked rogue retrieving her underwear from his bedroom floor. "I would not have expected you to leave so soon."

Isabela chuckled. "Yes, well, I have an early morning. Meeting someone to plan a burglary of sorts. Same time next week?"

There was a comfortable casualness in her tone. She knew his statement wasn't a matter of being clingy, it was simply that their occasional romps usually lasted longer into the night. It was an arrangement that suited them both – lots of physical pleasure without any messy emotions to complicate things.

"Unfortunately, no. I told Hawke I would accompany her on their expedition. We are supposed to leave in two days and will likely be gone a few weeks."

"_That _sounds like fun," Isabela said sarcastically. "The Deep Roads, darkspawn, and Serah Stick-up-her-ass leading the way."

"I don't believe Aveline is going actually."

Isabela laughed. "I meant Misery, but you're right – that description fits our guard-captain even better."

"Misery can be… difficult, but I respect her. She is determined and passionately defends what is important to her. Bethany is fortunate to have such an advocate."

"You're rather sweet on Sweetness, aren't you?"

Fenris scowled slightly. "Of course not, she is a mage!"

"Oh, don't act all offended. She may be a mage, but she's a lovable, sexy mage. Too innocent for my tastes, but you can't tell me you haven't thought about what it'd be like to do her."

When he didn't reply she began to have fun with him, describing Bethany's body and sexual acts involving it in lurid detail. It didn't take long for the elf's naked body to have the desired physical reaction she was attempting to provoke.

Instead of laughing at successfully getting a _rise_ out of him, Isabela smiled seductively, dropping her underwear on the floor and climbing back on the bed.

"I suppose it won't hurt if I'm late tomorrow…" she purred while sliding up Fenris' body.

-==0==-

Bethany flicked the left side of her staff outwards, parrying the incoming sword. The weapons had barely made contact before she countered with the other end of the staff. Her opponent instinctively raised her shield to absorb the blow, but it never came. Bethany sold the feint well enough to draw the other woman out of position, then spun back to her left and swung hard. The iron reinforced hardwood clanged loudly off the plate armor it collided with, the force of impact knocking the warrior off balance.

Bethany pressed, pirouetting in place and delivering a follow up that caught her reeling foe under the armpit and knocked her to the ground. Spinning her staff one more time, she thrust the end outwards, halting its momentum only when it was a scant few inches from the woman's throat.

"Stop already! I yield!" Aveline groused.

Bethany blinked, the guard-captain's words pulling her back to the present. She would have blushed if her face wasn't already flush from exertion. She withdrew her staff and sheepishly offered her hand, which Aveline accepted.

A few hoots and hollers drew the guard-captain's attention. She flashed a glare at the dozen or so guards here in the training yard that were supposed to be doing their own training but had stopped to watch the two women spar. A number of them knew Bethany as a friend that the captain trained on occasion. Aveline's scowl served as her silent command for them to get back to their own training.

"Sorry…" the mage began, "I didn't realize I was going at you so hard."

Aveline waved her hand. "Your hand-to-hand skill has improved by leaps and bounds. It wasn't all that long ago you could only best me if I let you. Now it seems I can't take you so lightly. I didn't match your intensity and you made me pay for it."

Bethany sighed bitterly, wiping her sweat-matted hair out of her face. "Tell that to my mother and sister. They coddle me like a child and refuse to see that I can handle myself just fine."

"Ahhh… so that's why you were coming at me like your life was on the line? Because you're not going on the expedition?"

"I suppose I _was _taking my frustration out on you, wasn't I?"

Aveline nodded. "For what it's worth, your sister knows you're capable. That's not the issue."

"I know she means well, but I am so tired of her making my decisions for me. Half the time she acts more like my mother than Mother does."

"Seems to me if you want to be seen as your own person, then you need to act that way. Why don't you join the Guard? I'll give you a position. You know your sister won't follow suit, so it'd be a slice of life of your own instead of always following her around."

Bethany tugged on a strand of hair while thinking. "You really think I'd make a good guardswoman?"

"I'd say you could take most of my men with your hand-to-hand skill alone, and you certainly have the right temperament for the job. Obviously your little secret will need to remain secret."

"I'll give it some thought and let you know. Thank you for the offer."

Aveline nodded. "Well, I'd better get back inside. Stop by and see me in a couple of days before you and Leandra go to the estate. I'll go with you in case any _surprises _were left behind."

Bethany nodded in return and waved for Revas to get up from the sunny spot he was sleepily watching from on this crisp winter morning.

As the pair made their way back around to the front of the Keep and down Viscount's Way, Bethany reflected on what Aveline said about being her own person. She wondered if all this time she'd been blind to her own part in the problem. After all, she rarely asserted herself. And with a very assertive older sister and very opinionated mother, taking the easy path for so many years of not speaking up for herself had perpetuated the problem of them deciding things for her.

The more she thought about it, the more she realized that Miri really wasn't that controlling. When Bethany _did_ assert herself, Miri generally listened and in most cases didn't stand in her way even when she disagreed. The relationship with Anders was a prime example of that. As was helping Fenris, helping Feynriel, and even making the second trip to Sundermount. And she knew Miri went out of her way at times to solicit her thoughts.

When it came to the expedition, Bethany was more than simply frustrated about being made to stay behind. She was also worried for her sister. Anders had backed out altogether. Merrill was reluctantly willing to go, but Miri let her off the hook by asking her to instead help their mother, something the elf was both relieved and excited to be doing rather than returning to the Deep Roads.

That left no mages going. Depending on the level of darkspawn resistance, that could put a strain on their traditional healing supplies. It also meant that Miri wouldn't be backed by anyone who could handle multiple foes simultaneously if necessary. And that scared Bethany.

By the time she and Revas were halfway home she'd reached a conclusion. She picked up her pace, striding with purpose towards her destination.

-==0==-

Varric smirked at the rogue standing to his left. Misery's eyes were practically glazed over as Bartrand was going on almost an hour of prattling to his audience of expedition goers, pontificating ad infinitum about the riches to be uncovered. To Varric's right stood Fenris, who was also clearly ready to be done with this. Especially since this was only the mission briefing and they weren't actually leaving until the next morning.

Misery glanced down when something nudged her hand, and was surprised to see Revas. She turned her head to see her sister approaching, and raised an eyebrow curiously when the girl simply fell in line next to her and stared ahead at Bartrand without acknowledging her.

"Why are you here?" Misery finally asked.

Bethany didn't turn to meet her gaze. "I'm going."

Misery was even more curious at the determination bordering on defiance in Bethany's tone. "We've been through this. You're not going."

"I _am _going. I am an adult and I will make my own decisions about what I do or don't do."

"Go home, Bethany."

"No."

Misery's anger flared. She grabbed and spun her so she was face to face. "I don't know what's gotten into you, but you're staying with Mother even if I have to make you."

Bethany's own expression turned dark as she called her sister's bluff. "Oh, I dare you to try…"

"You are biting off more than you can chew," Misery warned.

Varric started chuckling, and in response she whirled around on him. "What are you laughing at?"

"You against Sunshine's full arsenal? I don't know, I think she'd have a shot."

"You're drunk!" Misery exclaimed.

Varric waved his hand. "Don't get your bloomers in a twist, I'm just saying. But don't worry, I've been around you more than long enough to know betting against you is a bad idea."

Misery scowled, turning her attention back to Bethany. "You know how Mother is going to react to this, and that she's going to lay into _me _to get her way."

The younger girl smirked. "Of course I know how she's going to react. I already told her I was going. She ranted and raved about how reckless and irresponsible I'm being, and when I wouldn't back down to her either she griped about the Hawke stubbornness being as much a curse as a blessing. And in the end she told me I was old enough to make the decision for myself, whether she agreed with it or not."

Misery ran her fingers through her hair as if she was going to pull it out. "So you've already got Mother's approval? Why didn't you just say that earlier?"

Bethany's expression faltered and she averted her eyes to the ground. "Because I wanted you to accept my decision on its own, not because Mother co-signed it."

Misery stepped closer and leaned forward until her forehead rested on top of her sister's head. "If you die on me I'll kill you. You know that, right?"

Bethany giggled softly. She knew it was her sister's way of telling her it was alright.

"Family drama over yet?" Bartrand called out mockingly.

Misery pulled away from Bethany and glared at him. "I strongly suggest you shut the fuck up before I decide I don't need you. You need me much more than I need you. Don't forget that."

Varric chuckled a bit uneasily while quickly walking over and getting in Bartrand's ear. After a few moments the older brother threw his hands up in the air.

"Bah!" he exclaimed. "We leave at daybreak! Show up on time or your pay gets docked!"

With that dismissal he spun on his heels and disappeared into his office, leaving the gathered crowd to disperse and carry on with their day.

"What did you tell him?" Bethany asked when Varric came back to them.

"Just a friendly reminder that even with Misery's gold, without her he doesn't have the maps. He took it surprisingly well. Anyway, I have a couple of things to do, so I'll see you all back here in the morning."

"Anything you want help with?" Misery asked.

Varric shook his head. "I'm going down to Darktown to see Blondie, make him an offer he can't refuse. Probably for the best if I go alone."

Misery and Bethany looked at him curiously but didn't ask him to elaborate. Instead they wished him luck and headed for home with Revas trotting in between them.

After all these months the expedition was finally here, the culmination of so much work. Misery felt a mixture of satisfaction, relief, anticipation, and trepidation. But later as she lay in bed reflecting on things, she realized there was one worry that was no longer there. She no longer doubted that Varric would stick by her for the long haul once the expedition was over.

That thought brought a smile to her face as she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

><p><em>AN: <em>_It's fairly common for me to get ideas for things to touch on or delve into more detail about from reviews and/or PM conversations. I don't always think to publicly thank individual readers for the inspiration_, though hopefully I'm pretty good about thanking you all privately. Anyway, I don't want to attempt to "catch up" and name names here because it's too likely that I'll unintentionally leave someone out, but just know that I appreciate all the great feedback I've received along the way. It may not always show up in obvious ways (though sometimes it does), but it's made for a better story than if I was writing this in a vacuum. So, thank you!__


	28. Loss

Varric rubbed his face, sighing deeply. They'd traveled less than a mile into Deep Roads before progress was halted by a cave-in. However, it wasn't the large mound of broken stone and dirt itself staring them in the face that elicited the sigh. In fact, he wasn't altogether surprised to discover that an underground passage so old and off the beaten path that it didn't appear on common maps of the Free Marches would be in disrepair. And yet at the same time the blockage _was_ the cause of the dwarf's frustration.

The Deep Roads entrance they'd located using the Grey Warden maps turned out to be little more than a boarded up hole at the base of a mountain three days travel time from Kirkwall. It was obvious why it wasn't on the common maps – there was no gate, door, or anything to indicate it was ever an official entry point. After tearing the boards away, a brief exploration inside on foot had shown it to be a short tunnel that joined up with what was probably a high road once upon a time.

The problem had been that the entrance wasn't nearly large enough for the caravan of mule driven carts to pass through. According to Bartrand, the thaig they were searching for lay a week's journey below the surface. So the expedition wasn't going far without the carts that would not only haul out the loot they hoped to discover, but carry the equipment and supplies necessary to support what was expected to be a three to four week roundtrip.

It was at the entrance that Bartrand made what Varric felt even at the time was a bad decision. In his impatience to get inside, Bartrand ordered the entrance to be widened using lyrium-based blasting caps rather than having the hired help spend a day or two chipping away with pickaxes. They'd spent a small fortune on those blasting caps, anticipating that they might run into blockages along the way, only for Bartrand to have used nearly all of them just getting into the Deep Roads.

Now, Bartrand was stomping around in anger, shouting commands and generally acting like there was blame to throw around for the situation they were in, blame that was directed at everyone but himself. Dwarven scouts had been sent through a side passage some time ago to search for a detour while others were making camp or looking around.

Varric's mood wasn't helped by his _partner_. Misery and Bartrand were both stubborn, thought they were in charge, and neither was inclined to yield an inch to the other. Bartrand didn't know the first thing about leading a traveling party or managing the needs of the whole over those of the individual, yet that didn't stop him from issuing orders left and right and being overly demanding. Misery didn't know supply management and resource planning on anywhere near the scale of the expedition, yet that didn't stop her from butting heads with Bartrand every step of the way.

That left Varric in the unenviable position of playing peacekeeper. He'd managed to enact peace by convincing Misery to leave the minutia to Bartrand to deal with and convincing Bartrand to stop trying to order Misery to do things. But it was a fragile peace. He could only imagine how difficult those two were going to be by the time this thing was done.

Still staring off at the blockage, Varric's attention was grabbed by what sounded like someone being punched and hitting the deck followed by gasps. He whirled around, his eyes following the shocked stares that converged on his brother standing over one of the scouts.

"Worthless!" Bartrand shouted at the man before glaring around the cavernous room. Finally spotting Varric, he angrily growled, "Scouts say the side passages are too dangerous! Take your girlfriend and go find out what the problem is!"

_Oh, shit… that's not good…_ Varric immediately thought, looking on in horror as Misery hopped down from the rock she was sitting on and began swiftly covering the distance between herself and Bartrand. He all but sprinted to get to Bartrand first.

"What in the Void are you doing?" he hissed, pulling Bartrand aside. "Trying to get us both killed?"

The older brother completely missed the point of the question, assuming it to be in regards to going to check out the danger rather than the remark about Misery being his girlfriend.

"Bah! I'm the brains of this outfit, she can at least make herself useful and be the brawn," he answered, gesturing to the female rogue now standing a few feet away with her arms folded across her chest. Her other companions were gathering as well.

"Does that make Varric the beauty?" Anders asked sarcastically.

"Not helping, Blondie…" Varric grumbled. Bethany giggled anyway, while Fenris gave no reaction at all.

Misery scowled at the scout who had delivered the bad news. "What sort of _danger_ are we talking about? Walls collapsing?"

The scout shook his head. "Darkspawn… we were lucky they didn't see us."

"Lovely…" Anders groused. "Remind me again why I agreed to come along?"

Misery stared at the former Grey Warden. "I thought you could sense darkspawn."

"Well it's not like it has an infinite range!"

Bartrand waved his hand in annoyance. "Less chatter, more work. This expedition isn't going anywhere until you get us a way around that." He pointed at the cave-in holding up the show.

"Just blast through it with explosives," Misery said. "Oh, that's right… someone decided it would be a great idea to use them up earlier."

Varric sighed. "Nothing to be done about it now. Come on, let's go clear a path." Despite his frustration, he was glad that Bartrand's remark about Misery being his girlfriend seemed to have been forgotten in the ensuing bickering.

While walking away, an older dwarven male came running up to them.

"I hate to be a bother," he began, "but my boy went wandering off into the tunnels. Would you look for him?"

"How did that happen?" Misery asked.

"I… I turned my back for just a few minutes while handing out provisions. My boy… I should have been more stern in my warnings. He doesn't understand how dangerous it is. I don't know what I'd do if I lost him."

"Of course we will look for him," Bethany answered. At her sister's curious expression she added, "We are going into the tunnel anyway."

"Sandal's a good kid," Varric said. "If we can get him back safely to Bodahn we should."

Misery merely nodded and resumed walking towards the tunnel off to the side of the cave-in.

-==0==-

The group was maybe a third of a mile down the side passage when they came across the dwarven lad, who was standing idle, scratching his rear while staring off into space.

"Hello," he said, smiling as the group approached. He seemed to be without a care in the world.

Everyone looked around in bewilderment. A dozen darkspawn lay dead, but even more astonishing was the giant crystallized ogre a few feet away, appearing to have been lunging forward to attack at the moment it was frozen in place.

"Did you do… all this?" Misery asked, waving her hand. She couldn't fathom how he'd even gotten this far given that they themselves had already encountered darkspawn resistance in the passage.

The white haired boy's expression appeared blank for a moment.

"Uhhh… Sandal isn't exactly the… sharpest blade," Varric said quietly.

Just when Misery was opening her mouth to ask him again, Sandal finally nodded. "Boom!" he said, smiling giddily while holding out a flat stone engraved with a rune.

Misery accepted the stone, running her fingers over the rune. "You are… giving this to me?"

Sandal nodded once more. "Enchantment!"

Varric whistled in appreciation while circling the crystallized ogre. "How did you do this?"

The younger dwarf seemed to frown momentarily as he searched for an explanation. Finally he simply answered, "Not enchantment."

"Well… alright then," Varric said before shaking his head. "Bodahn is worried sick about you. You shouldn't have wandered off like this."

"I'm sorry…"

Misery sighed as she thought about what to do next. Even having cleared out what darkspawn they'd encountered on the way, she didn't think leaving this obviously mentally impaired teen on his own was a good idea. At the same time, she wasn't real interested in escorting him back, only to turn around and resume looking for a way past the cave-in. And she had no idea what to make of what he'd done here. She motioned for the others to stand by and pulled Varric off to the side.

"What do you know of this boy?" she asked quietly.

"The kid is a real genius when it comes to enchanting weapons and armor. He's the one I took that dagger of yours to back after we first met. Other than that, not much. Bodahn and Sandal came to Kirkwall after the Blight was over. Oh, and Bodahn claims that they traveled all across Ferelden with Surana's party while they were fighting the Blight, and that Sandal enchanted a number of things for them."

Misery raised an eyebrow quizzically. "Surana? As in Alim Surana, the Hero of Ferelden?"

Varric chuckled. "The one and the same. Personally, I think he's full of shit. I mean, who gives up a gig like that to come to Kirkwall?"

"No one in their right mind…" Misery muttered before glancing over at Sandal and shaking her head at the thought that the boy was anything but right in the head. "Never mind."

She paused for a moment before continuing, "I need an honest opinion. I don't know what he did here, but I'm inclined to take him with us and continue on rather than backtracking to drop him off at the camp. Do you think I'm making a mistake?"

Varric took a deep breath, averting his eyes from her gaze. "Yeah…" he admitted. "We're not that far in, I think we should go back."

Misery ran her fingers through her hair while contemplating it. "Fair enough," she relented. "Let's go."

He looked up at her, somewhat surprised that she didn't argue even a little. "You sure you're okay with that?"

"I trust your judgment. Besides, you should know by now I wouldn't have asked for your opinion if I didn't want it."

Varric nodded and the two moved to rejoin the others.

It wasn't the time to say anything, but that made him think of just how much she'd grown in the time he'd known her. It didn't seem all that long ago that the concept of 'trust' was practically foreign to her. And he very much appreciated that whether or not she agreed, she didn't want to be told simply what she wanted to hear.

He chuckled softly to himself before pushing the thoughts away in favor of focusing on the present.

-==0==-

"Well?" Bartrand demanded loudly after an assistant pointed out his brother returning from the side passage.

Varric shook his head. "Not yet. We only came back to drop off the kid."

"You weren't gone long enough to have a kid!" Bartrand shouted back. Varric winced at that, and wasn't surprised to hear the huff from the female at his right.

Bodahn perked up at hearing Varric and ran across the room. "My boy!" he exclaimed in audible relief at the sight of Sandal with the group.

Varric and Misery left the others at the tunnel entrance and went over to Bartrand, who scowled at their approach.

"I need progress, not excuses," he said. "The whole damned show is on hold while you two are out on your lover's stroll or whatever it is you're wasting my time with."

"Right…" Varric began, "clearing out your darkspawn is obviously just an excuse to go off and have my way with Misery."

As much as he was hoping to defuse the budding tension, he also hoped that his sarcasm would hide his unease with this ongoing line of taunting. While in his mind there were far worse things for his brother to rag him about than a non-existent romance with Misery, he interpreted her body language to mean she was rather irritated by it. And that made him uncomfortable, because he knew her irritation could turn violent in the blink of an eye.

Misery's expression, however, changed to one of disbelief at his statement. "What?"

Bartrand waved his hand dismissively. "Bah! I wouldn't put it past you. Shaving your beard, going for those… leggy types. Sodding poor excuse for a dwarf." With that he stalked away, leaving them to get back to work.

"Varric? Why does your brother think something is going on between us?"

Varric's face flushed in equal parts anger and embarrassment. "I doubt he does… probably just wants to see how far he can push before you gut me."

"Yet you were obviously willing to play along."

Varric winced slightly at the tinge of accusation in her tone. He gestured for her to relax.

"Bartrand fishes… he trolls the waters trying to get under my skin. And when he gets a catch he doesn't let go of it. Trust me, I've long since learned the only way to make him raise anchor and move on is to not take the baited hook. Anyway, I'm sorry you're getting caught up in his trolling."

Misery sighed. "Can I just cut out his tongue and be done with it?"

The casual matter-of-factness in her tone created another one of those disconcerting moments for Varric when he wasn't entirely sure if she was be facetious or serious. He decided to play it off with his own half serious, half joking response.

"Damn tempting… damn tempting. But then I'd have to represent the family at the Guild meetings, which would be a fate worse than anything Bartrand could inflict on me. You wouldn't do that to me, would you?"

"Lucky for him you're worth it to me," she answered, sighing again and shaking her head as she walked off to rejoin the others. "If Anders pipes up about it though, all bets are off."

_Note to self: __Blackmail or __Bribe Blondie to keep his mouth shut._

-==0==-

Misery stopped when they reached the hall containing Sandal's crystallized ogre.

"Whatcha thinking?" Varric asked when she continued to stare at it.

"Hmm? Oh, just wishful thinking about how awesome it would be to take this thing back with me and put it in the foyer of the estate."

"As what, a coat rack?" Anders asked. "How would you even get it through the door?"

"Ahhh… good point."

Varric chuckled. "There's always the flower garden. Bet it'd keep the pests away."

"Just stop," Bethany said tersely, drawing curious stares. She shook her head. "Carver was killed by one of those things. Some of us could do without the constant reminder of that."

Misery silently kicked herself for not making that connection on her own but didn't say anything in reply. With the lighthearted moment shattered, the group fell silent and moved on.

As they reached the doorway at the far side of the hall, a sudden noise from Misery's left as she passed into the room drew her attention. Her eyes opened wide and she immediately dove back the way she came, bowling over Fenris and Varric in the process.

"Back!" she shouted.

"What the-" Varric began before the unspoken portion of his question was answered by a roar. A living ogre came into view, banging itself against the doorway it was too large to fit through in a fruitless effort to reach its prey.

Getting to her feet, Misery smirked as she calmly took her bow from her back.

"Open season has been declared, let that thing have it," she said.

Fenris and Revas stood by while Misery, Varric, Bethany, and Anders unloaded at range on the ogre. The beast howled and roared, but never gave up trying to reach them until it fell into the throes of death.

Afterwards Misery stepped over it, leading the way into the room. She frowned when all she saw was a similar sized door at the far end.

"What were you saying, Anders, about too large to fit through the door? How do you suppose it got in here?"

"Don't care…" the former Grey Warden grumbled in response. "It's dead now and that's all that matters."

"Fenris, are you alright?" Bethany asked, noticing him rubbing his shoulder as if it was in pain.

He looked at her curiously before nodding. "Being charged into by your sister was better than the alternative."

"The caravan isn't getting through these doors either," Varric said with a sigh, changing the subject. "Is it too much to ask for a wide enough passage that rejoins the main road?"

"Does this mean we get to go home now?" Anders asked sarcastically.

"Feel free to leave," Fenris replied, waving his hand in annoyance.

"Enough," Misery stated, her tone clear that she wasn't going to put up with them bickering. "We continue on, see if we can find another path."

-==0==-

"Do you hear that?" Bethany asked.

The others stopped to listen. Just when the female mage was almost ready to apologetically suggest it was perhaps her imagination, the sound returned.

"Sounds like… wings," Varric said.

"Large ones," Misery added. "Anders? I'm guessing it's not a flying darkspawn, is it?"

He shook his head. "I'm not sensing any darkspawn nearby."

Varric chuckled uneasily. "Who thinks we'll get lucky and it's Misery's old friend Flemeth waiting to show us the way?" He raised his hand mockingly, but wasn't surprised when no one followed suit.

"Wait here," Misery said. "I'll go scout it out." She tightened the grip she had on her bow and began to move quietly down the darkened hall, gradually disappearing from view.

Anders shook his head. "If nothing else, she's fearless. At least when it doesn't involve spiders."

Bethany scowled. "It's easy to be fearless when you don't care if you get killed."

Varric raised an eyebrow curiously but said nothing. He was surprised though that Sunshine missed her sister's tell. Despite the calm outward demeanor, the way she'd flexed her grip on the bow was a sure sign of anxiety.

After she'd confided in him her fears a couple of times on the journey to Corypheus, he'd pieced together from that and previous conversations that there was still a somewhat fragile girl fiercely concealed inside of that hardened shell of hers. Not fragile in the sense of being helpless or weak-minded, but rather an emotional vulnerability few would suspect existed. Ever since then he'd made a point of consciously looking for visual clues that revealed what her well-trained facial expressions and words wouldn't.

He could relate though. As he'd once told Misery, most of what people thought they knew about him was what he wanted them to think. Their purposes were different, but the two rogues were fundamentally similar in crafting outward facing images that intentionally misled others.

-==0==-

Bethany paced with increasing impatience as more and more minutes elapsed without her sister returning. They couldn't hear sounds of combat, but it had been nearly an hour as best they could tell, and Bethany still didn't trust that Miri wouldn't stupidly attempt to take on something dangerous solo. Finally her impatience got the best of her.

"Come on, it's been long enough. Let's go see what she's gotten herself into. Varric, please take point."

The dwarf smirked slightly at the younger Hawke's assertiveness, but nodded in acknowledgment. The thought came to mind that she'd also grown quite a bit since they first met. She was rapidly becoming much more than Misery's tag-a-long kid sister.

He led the group several hundred feet down the hall, stopping when it opened up into an expansive room. Noting multiple sets of stairs leading up to a raised platform in the center and the very high ceiling, he guessed that this had been a central gathering spot of sorts, perhaps an Assembly.

Varric's eyes darted around the room, which was bathed in shadows cast by the dim lighting projected from sealed sconces. He was still amazed at the ancient dwarven technology that produced perpetual, self-sustaining light.

The more immediate concern, however, was the presence of a large dragon perched on the platform almost as if it was holding court to an almost non-existent audience. _Almost _because there were several smaller, immature dragonlings lying around that were most likely the offspring of the dragon.

Not having heard any prior shouts or indications of conflict, Varric guessed that Misery was somewhere in the shadows of the room, though he couldn't actually see her. He wondered what she was planning, and if they were inadvertently sabotaging it. The dragon seemed to be staring directly at him, but since it showed no sign yet of being aggressive he was inclined to remain silent for awhile and see what happened.

A sharp intake of breath followed by an exclamatory from the female next to him, however, caused the dragon and its dragonlings to stir. Varric tensed in preparation for combat, but the dragon merely tucked its wings back into itself a few moments later, as if it was waiting to see what the intruders would do.

"Hold up," he whispered. "That thing doesn't seem anxious to fight."

"Where is she?" Bethany groused, clearly perturbed that her sister was nowhere to be seen.

"Perhaps the dragon allowed her pass?" Fenris suggested, though he didn't sound overly convinced of that.

Bethany looked over at him. "Are you saying we should try just quietly walking by and hoping for the best?"

Fenris merely shrugged in response.

Anders smirked. "Sure, the trick is to make it think we're no threat."

He began casually sauntering forward. After a dozen steps with no reaction from the dragon, he continued, "See, we take it nice and easy, make it think we're just going to the bunkhouse. No worries…"

At that moment the dragon flexed its wings and roared, halting Anders in his tracks. He quickly reversed his steps.

Varric couldn't help but chuckle. "Oh, I'm pretty sure it knows we aren't going to the bunkhouse."

In the shadow of a staircase leading up to the center platform, Misery seethed at her companions disobeying her orders… _again_.

The dragon probably wasn't more than twenty feet from her, and while she wasn't certain if its sense of smell was good enough to know she was nearby, she was positive neither it nor its young ones knew her current position. She had already exited the chamber out the far side and determined the passage there not only continued further down, but also looped around to a hall running parallel with the one they'd traveled.

She suspected the other hall led back to the chamber containing Sandal's crystallized ogre. If so, it would mean not only did they have a viable passage to get around the cave-in, but that they had no reason to tangle with the dragon. And bypassing that fight was more than okay with her. She'd been holding her current position, waiting for the dragon to turn away again so she could make the last jaunt back to the hall where she'd left the others.

Except now it appeared that the others were going to provoke the beast into a fight anyway.

Almost as if on cue, the dragon stretched its wings and took flight.

-==0==-

Misery wouldn't even look at her companions as she field dressed the dead dragon. To do so would likely cause the air of fury she was projecting to devolve into giddy laughter, because inwardly she was riding a wave of euphoria after having killed the dragon in such dramatic fashion that it left the others awestruck. Instead she concentrated on carving away the tough scaly hide of the beast while wishing she had that wickedly sharp Dalish arulinthingamajigger to make the process easier.

She knew dragon scale was a highly sought after material for crafting armor, one that was difficult to come by for obvious reasons. It offered the protective qualities of plate metal yet had the weight and flexibility of premium leather. And once she had the scale removed she intended to move on to harvesting its leg and rib bones. As much as the scale was valued by armorers, dragonbone was equally valued by master weaponsmiths.

Misery was undecided on if she'd have equipment made for herself from the dragon's remains, simply sell the materials, or both. But either way was going to have made fighting the dragon worthwhile.

Her thoughts were interrupted when she felt a hand pulling on the knife sheath on her right hip. She turned her head to see Bethany.

"I-I can help…" the younger girl said quietly. "I'll work on the teeth. That's the last thing on our list for that merchant in the Gallows, Sully or Sol or whatever his name is."

Misery nodded curtly.

A short time later, Varric approached carrying an exquisite Nevarran longbow. Holding it out to Misery, he said, "At least the legends are true. The dragon had a horde of gold and other shiny, expensive looking things."

"Bartrand will be pleased by that," Bethany suggested.

Both Varric and Misery stared at the mage as if she'd grown a second head.

"Bartrand can kill his own damn dragon if he wants a cut of its profits," Varric replied.

Misery nodded emphatically in agreement. "This is ours."

Bethany shook her head. "Greedy much?"

"Sunshine, a stereotype needs just enough truth to work. So for dwarves to be characterized as coin grubbing bastards that would sell out their own family for a few silvers, you gotta have the ones like me to give it credibility."

"You would really sell out Bartrand for a few silvers?" Bethany asked, frowning.

Varric laughed. "Of course not! It would take a full sovereign for that!"

When Bethany only stared back skeptically, his expression turned more serious and he sighed. "And that, Sunshine, is the danger of stereotypes. They aren't the universal truths the unthinking want to believe them to be. Bartrand might be a nug licking windbag, but he's family and that _does _mean something to me."

With a mischievous grin and a wink he added, "He's still not getting a cut off our dragon though."

-==0==-

Bartrand whistled in astonishment as he wandered around the entry hall of an ancient thaig. After nearly a week of travel the expedition had finally reached their destination.

"Finally something you're impressed with, Brother?" Varric asked in amusement.

"I've never seen this style of writing before… this architecture… nothing here makes sense. Holy shit… I'd say this place predates known dwarven history… Incredible."

"How did you even know it was here?" Misery asked.

Bartrand continued to walk around wide-eyed, soaking in every last detail. "Old scavenger tales… after the third Blight." He shook his head. "I'd hoped for an old thaig that hadn't been picked over, but I never expected… _this_. Let's hope the people who lived here kept their valuables close at hand."

Misery nodded. "Let's make camp and start the exploration at what amounts to tomorrow this far below surface. We're all tired, there's a lot to explore, and it isn't going anywhere."

"Fine, fine…" Bartrand grumbled, waving his hand. "Make camp!" he shouted while walking back to the caravan.

"Miz… I think we hit the jackpot," Varric said. His eyes gleamed in optimism.

Misery laughed lightly at his tone and expression. "Seems Bartrand is far more enthralled with the historical stuff here than you are."

"What can I say? I wouldn't even be down here if there wasn't profit in it. And right now I'm all tingly inside thinking about the profit potential."

Misery laughed again. "So what does one do with their life once they are filthy rich?"

"I don't know… but I'm looking forward to finding out!"

-==0==-

"Need anything else, Messere?" Bodahn asked. He was a polite man in general, almost formal even, but he was being even more so towards the woman who had rescued Sandal.

Misery nodded. "Provisions… food we can carry in our packs without making a mess. And our water skins refilled."

"Why are bothering with that?" Anders asked. "Isn't that just extra stuff to lug around all day?"

"I think I agree with Blondie," Varric said. "We're only going to be away from camp maybe 6-8 hours. It seems a waste to have that taking up space in our packs that could be filled with loot."

Misery pinched the bridge of her nose in visible annoyance. "Bartrand said the thaig is supposed to on the scale of a topside city like Kirkwall, and the first phase is to simply map out what's there. We'll worry about actually looting it in the days ahead. But we don't know what we're going to run into, so the possibility exists that we'll encounter darkspawn and whatever else. I'm not going to make you take food. Just know that if we end up in a situation where we can't return right away and need to make camp out there in the thaig somewhere, I'm not going to share mine. Instead I'm going to laugh at you while you go hungry."

Varric laughed. "And I believe you would too. You know, Miz, for someone so reckless, you can be cautious in the weirdest ways sometimes."

He grinned when she smirked back in amusement.

"Fine, Bodahn," Varric said, "load us up."

He expected he'd get to tease her later in the day for worrying about nothing, but unspoken in his comment was the appreciation he had for her attention to detail.

The old merchant nodded and began preparing their packs while they waited impatiently to set out.

-==0==-

The group climbed a long flight of stairs and entered a large building roughly a half mile into the thaig.

"Be alert," Misery warned. "Something feels very off about this place."

"Awww, don't go getting spooked," Varric teased.

"Sister?" Bethany asked.

She glanced over at Anders, who nodded in agreement. There was a strange vibe, an itching feeling in her head. That it was noticeable to her and Anders, as well as to her Fade sensitive sister, made her leery.

"I don't know…" Misery answered. "Just keep your wits about you while we're looking around."

"This place looks like a temple," Varric stated. "I never knew the dwarves ever worshipped anything but the Stone. I think Bartrand was right about this thaig predating our known history." For as little as he really cared about dwarven tradition and history, there was still a noticeable tinge of awe in his voice.

As they entered the main chamber of the temple, a glowing red centerpiece lying on a table atop an altar drew their attention.

"What's this?" Varric asked as they approached. It appeared to be an idol of sorts.

The throb in Misery's head was increasing, but she reached out and touched the idol anyway. Immediately she recoiled at what felt like a loud screech directly in her head. Grabbing her head, she backed away from the altar.

"Stay away from it," she hissed, reopening her eyes as the stabbing pain subsided. Seeing the concerned expressions on her companions' faces, she shook her head. "I'm alright. _That _thing is not. It feels like pure evil."

"It's definitely magic," Anders said. "And not the good kind."

While most of the others consciously or unconsciously took a step back, Varric took a closer look.

"It looks like it's made of pure lyrium. I've never seen anything like it. I'm guessing you guys are feeling magic coming from it? I don't feel anything." He picked up the idol and turned it over in his hands. "Advantage, dwarf."

Misery frowned. This was not a side of her friend she liked seeing. She knew he trusted her, but despite that he'd been repeatedly dismissing her concerns, allowing greed to egg him on to carelessness. She wondered if he even realized how similar he'd become to Bartrand in that regard on the expedition. Before she could say anything, however, Bartrand's voice could be heard from behind them.

"Find anything interesting?" he asked.

Misery glanced over at the dwarf, her eyes narrowing in suspicion as to why he was even here. He'd planned to accompany scouts to other parts of the thaig.

"Look at this, Bartrand!" Varric exclaimed. "An idol, made out of pure lyrium! Could be worth a fortune!"

Bartrand whistled. "You could be right… excellent find…" His voice was low, not much above a whisper. His eyes at first seemed without focus, but quickly locked in on the idol in Varric's hands.

The younger brother laughed and tossed the idol to him. "We'll take a look around, see what else we find further in."

Bartrand slowly turned and began walking towards the exit. "You do that…" he muttered in that same quiet, detached tone.

Misery closed her eyes and rubbed her throbbing temples while the others followed Revas, who was trotting towards a door leading into an interior room at the backside of the altar.

A sudden loud grinding noise caused everyone to jump in surprise, and when they spun around to look they could see the stone door they'd entered through slowly swinging closed.

"That idiot…" Misery grumbled, sighing as she began walking towards the closing door. She assumed Bartrand accidentally hit the lever that started the pulley system controlling the heavy slab door.

The others ran past her towards the door, not that they had any chance of reaching it before it closed.

"Bartrand!" Varric shouted. "The door shut behind you!"

Even through the thick stone the laughter could be heard coming from the other side. "You always did notice everything, Varric."

"Stop fooling around and get it open!"

Bartrand laughed again. "Or maybe not… and to think Mother always said you were the smart one."

The younger dwarf's eyes opened wide in shock as realization set in. "What? You're joking! You're going to screw over your own brother over some lousy idol?"

"It's not just the idol! The location of this thaig alone will be worth a fortune. I'm not splitting that three ways! And after I've cleaned the place out of valuables, I'll give the location to the Shaperate in Orzammar. With the history here and the documents on Tethras Garen you gave me, they'll make me a paragon!"

"Don't do this, Bartrand!"

"So long, _Brother_!"

The sound of Bartrand's maniacal laughter faded as he moved further away from the door, disappearing altogether as he left the temple.

Varric screamed, beating his hands against the door in futility. "I swear, I will find you and I will kill you!"

"At least we agree on that," Misery said. In contrast to Varric, the volume of her voice was at a conversational level. However, the tone carried every bit as much venom as Varric's did.

She glanced around the room at the walls and ceiling. Despite the age of the thaig, the stone had no visible structural defects that could be exploited through brute force.

"Surely this place has more than one exit?" Bethany suggested.

Varric pulled away from the door finally and huffed. "We'd better hope so." He glared at Misery. "We wouldn't even be in this situation if _you _hadn't been a constant burr in his ass!"

Misery blinked in surprise. "You think this is… my fault?" she asked softly.

In his fury, Varric completely missed the dubious milestone in their relationship. Instead of returning his anger, Misery expressed hurt at the accusation.

Rather than reply, Varric stomped back up the stairs to the altar and through the door at the far side. While most of the others silently followed, Revas stayed behind to wait for his master. When she didn't seem inclined to move, he bumped her hand with his wet nose to get her attention.

Misery glanced down into his large brown eyes and understood what he was trying to do. She nodded solemnly, giving him a brief scratching behind his ears before moving to catch up with the others.

-==0==-

It didn't take long for the group to exhaust its search of the temple. To their dismay, no doors they'd been able to open led to the outside. That left all of their hopes pinned on the lone remaining door, the one at the back of the inner sanctum. As an interior door it wasn't nearly as stout as the front door and didn't even require mechanical operation to open and close. However, it was tightly sealed and had clearly been so intentionally.

After nearly a day of battering the door with spells and physical violence, it finally yielded.

Misery descended the stairs leading further down into the darkness. "Light, please!" she called out.

Bethany obliged as she joined her sister and Revas, and it quickly became apparent what they'd gotten into.

"Catacombs…" Misery muttered. "Don't say I never took you anywhere nice."

"_Lovely_…" Anders said upon joining the Hawkes at the bottom of the stairs. "Why do I get the feeling we're soon going to be fighting demon possessed corpses?"

"Because it takes one to know one," Fenris grumbled.

"Ooh, did you get that one from a book? Oh, I forgot… you can't read, you ignorant ass."

Bethany stepped in between the two men before it could escalate. "Stop! Both of you!"

"Why are you griping at me?" Anders asked incredulously. "He started it!"

"What are you two, children?" She blew out an exasperated breath. "If you can't say something nice to each other, then don't say anything at all!"

"Wow…" Varric said when the other two men shut up and turned away from each other.

Misery shook her head. "No, no, no," she said, tsking them. "See, this is how you respond."

She bowed her head demurely, clasping her hands together in front of her waist. "Yes, Mother," she said in mock innocence, her vocal pitch much higher than normal.

"Wow…" Varric repeated. "Clearly someone has had a lot of practice mastering that act."

"You think?" Bethany asked sarcastically. Despite acting annoyed, she was unable to stifle the grin that formed. In a more gentle tone she added, "Come on… let's focus our energies on getting home alive, not on fighting each other."

"Yes, Mother," Anders echoed. He turned to Misery. "How'd I do?"

She shrugged. "It's a start."

-==0==-

The former Grey Warden's suspicions, unfortunately, had been spot on. They fought through numerous undead and shades to reach the other side of the catacombs. The excitement that had been gained upon finding an exit that dumped them out in a different section of the thaig was lost just as quickly when they were forced to fight corrupted beings unlike anything they'd seen before.

According to Varric the creatures might be rock wraiths, which were so ancient in dwarven lore to be mythology at this point. They fit the description as far as everyone was concerned. They were roughly six feet tall humanoids made of blackened stone, with the edges of what passed for arms sharpened into blades.

In addition to their gruesome, deadly appearance, Anders also noted that the things were practically dripping with the same type of taint as darkspawn. The thought went through his mind that this was one of the few times he was glad to be immune to the taint.

After a seemingly endless wave of the wraiths, finally no more came at them. It was only a few moments of reprieve, however, before the ground began to rumble. Blackened rock strewn about the ground gathered together by an unseen force, assembling into a creature even larger than what they had been fighting. When finished, it resembled an amalgamation of a stone golem, a skeletal warrior, and a shade.

"Enough!" it exclaimed in a deep, gravelly voice. "You have proven your mettle. I would not see these creatures harmed without need."

Misery scowled. "Need? _They _attacked _us_!"

"They will not assault you further, not without my permission."

"What are these things, and you?"

"They are the profane. They hunger, lingering in this place for ages beyond memory… feeding on the magic stones until the need is all they know."

"The lyrium is what sustains them?" Anders asked.

The creature continued, "I am not as they are. I am… a visitor."

"Bethany?" Misery asked.

"Demon," she answered.

"Figures."

Anders cleared his throat. "I think this is a hunger demon that feeds off of their hunger. I imagine it's been undisturbed down here for ages."

"I would not see my feast end! I sense your desire. You seek to leave this place, but you will need my aid to do so."

Misery eyed the demon skeptically. "Let me guess, you want something more than us simply leaving you to your _feast_ in exchange for that aid?"

"There is another door that leads into the paths far above us. That is what you seek. It has been sealed, however, and cannot be opened without a key. I know where the key is. Do as I ask and I shall tell you."

Misery remained silent as she thought. She had no intention of cooperating with the demon, but she wanted to gain as much useful information as possible. There was also the hope that they could avoid a fight here, as the extended fighting first through the catacombs and then through the profane left her in need of rest. And she knew if her own endurance was flagging then her companions were even worse off.

Thinking things through, she guessed the nature of this being a dwarven thaig meant the key didn't involve magic, which made her wonder if either she or Varric could bypass the lock if necessary. Or at least batter it down as they did the one leading into the catacombs. And she guessed that by the greedy nature of demons, any _deal _it offered would be one-sided and subject to deception.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Fenris roared loudly and drove his two-handed sword through the demon's glowing midsection. With a violent twist, he tore the blade sideways and out. The demon screeched in pain, but before it could recover Fenris spun the blade and chopped, decapitating it.

Almost immediately they were descended on by another horde of profanes. The loud moans coming from the creatures suggested more than a little hostility towards the ones that took away their leader.

Finding herself quickly surrounded, Misery dropped her bow and drew her daggers, spinning in a whirlwind attack as she attempted to gain some separation and hopefully get out of the middle. The quintet of profanes kept coming though, forcing her purely on the defensive as she tried to hold off their attacks.

Varric ran for higher ground, partially ascending the staircase at the back of the room before turning and unloading Bianca on the foe that had trailed him. Knocking it back and down, he then turned his attention to providing covering fire for Blondie, who was trying to get defensive spells up on his companions while ducking and dodging.

Revas leaped past Bethany, intercepting a profane before it could take a swing from the girl's blindside. His teeth were all but useless against the rock creatures, but he did his best to use his physical strength to inflict damage on them.

Fenris saw Misery was in trouble, but there was little he could do about it. He had several of his own enemies to deal with. He swung hard, his sword colliding with and shattering the blade-arm of a profane. He followed up by running it through before pivoting and intercepting an incoming strike.

As the battle wore on, Misery wore down. It was all she could do to hold on, parrying what she could, ducking what she couldn't get to in time, and taking advantage of the occasional opening to deliver a counterattack. Though it also didn't help her cause that her daggers didn't have enough mass and she couldn't generate enough force behind them to be a consistent threat. That only emboldened her enemies.

Ducking underneath the swing of a blade-arm, Misery rose up and thrust hard with the dagger in her left hand. She winced from the painful vibration that shot up through her arm when the tip of the blade connected with stone and had its forward momentum reduced to almost nothing. However, she had just enough strength to wedge it between and through the rocks that served as its ribcage. The creature wailed as it fell.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw another inbound strike, and turned while lifting the dagger in her right hand to intercept. Her reflexes were a split second too slow, however. Instead of the blade-arm of the profane meeting the blade of her dagger, it met the hilt her hand was wrapped around.

Misery screamed as the white hot pain seared through her hand and up her arm. Her blade went spinning out of the partial hand that remained from the assault, clattering on the ground several feet away. An overwhelming dizziness took hold and she barely avoided another attack before losing her balance and falling.

Bethany, who had been fighting a few feet away, abandoned her opponents to rush to her sister's aid. She stood over her, sweeping her staff in a wide arc as ice poured forth and snap froze four profanes. Without even thinking she uttered the incantation of a mindblast, the telekinetic force shattering the frozen creatures.

As much pain as she was already in, Misery had been conscious of Bethany standing over her, protecting her, until all of a sudden it felt like her mind was being ripped in half. She let out another brief screech before blacking out.

Bethany glanced down, realizing in horror that Miri had been caught in her mental attack. The distraction proved costly, as it dropped her guard and allowed another profane to hit her from behind. The oily, tainted stone blade cut a swath halfway down her back, starting between her shoulder blades and shredding the cloth of the tunic she wore under her chain smock. She seized up from the pain, dropping to her knees.

Fenris growled, focusing his will. His lyrium brandings began to glow and he lashed out, punching through the profane that had attacked Bethany, causing it to split apart. Pushing himself, he destroyed three more before the exertion of using his brandings left him exhausted. He weakly turned in anticipation of more, only to see Anders – or Justice as it were – cooling down from his own glowy rampage. With the last of the profane gone, the elf gave into his weakening body and collapsed on his rear, gasping for breath.

-==0==-

"Misery!" Varric shouted while racing down from the spot he'd been firing from during the battle. The rogue was writhing on the ground even after a healing spell from Anders, who was currently tending to Bethany's mess of a back.

Varric knelt down beside her and put his hand on her shoulder. That's when he noticed the hand she was clutching to her chest. His eyes grew wide. "Oh, shit… Blondie! Get over here!"

"Be there in a minute!" Anders shouted back.

"Now!"

Anders huffed. He was about to retort that he was just a _little _busy when Fenris stood up.

"I can help here while you see to Misery. What do you need me to do?"

Scowling, he replied, "Keep the pressure on this poultice. As soon as the bleeding stops we're going to flush the wound and repeat the process." _And pray to the Maker that the corruption doesn't take hold in her blood_.

"Understood," Fenris answered. "Go."

He placed his hands rather gingerly on Bethany's back at first, only to have Anders press his hands down more forcefully.

"I said _pressure_. I hate to say it, but if she isn't feeling pain then you aren't pressing hard enough."

"It-it's alright, Fenris," Bethany grunted out. "Do what you need to."

Satisfied that the elf finally had the right idea, Anders went to check on Misery. He frowned at the amount of concern in Varric's eyes as he approached and knelt down with the two rogues.

"What's the- oh…" He closed his eyes briefly, thinking of what to do. "Get that glove off her hand while I ask Bethany a quick question." He grabbed Misery's dagger off the ground and ran back to the other mage.

"Miz… hey…" Varric began gently. His earlier misplaced anger with her was completely forgotten.

"J-just d-do it," she hissed. "Don't y-you fucking dare p-pity me."

Anders kneeled down in front of Bethany, who was still sitting with Fenris applying pressure to her back.

"Do you know any sleep spells?" he asked.

Bethany shook her head slightly. "No, why?"

She began to get nervous when he didn't reply right away. "What's wrong with her?"

He took a deep breath, hating to be the one delivering bad news. "She lost at least a couple fingers, maybe three. I won't know for sure until I get it cleaned up. I'm going to need to cauterize the wounds, and was hoping to knock her out first. Doesn't look like that's going to happen though. I… I'm going to need you to heat up this blade. Wait though until I look back and let you know I'm ready for it."

The tears were already falling from Bethany's eyes, but she nodded. Anders leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead before running back to Misery.

"What a bloody mess…" Anders said, shaking his head. He held Misery's right wrist and examined the hand. The pinky and ring fingers were completely gone, taken off right at the webbing between the fingers. The middle finger was barely dangling by a flap of skin.

"I _might_ be able to salvage the middle finger," he mumbled before sighing. He reached down and brushed the hair out of her eyes. "I'm sorry, but I'm going to need to put you through a whole lot of pain."

Misery choked out a sarcastic chuckle before it turned to coughing. "Y-your dream come tr-true."

He couldn't help but smile slightly at her attempt to set him at ease. "Well, yeah… but not under these conditions. It's supposed to be me zapping you in the ass with a bolt of lightning or something else fun like that."

"D-do what you need to do."

"What can I do to help, Blondie?" Varric asked as the mage went to work cleaning the wound out and preparing for the cauterization.

"You're going to help hold her down when I'm ready to apply the heat. I don't have anything else for you until then."

Misery reached up with her left hand and grabbed Varric's hand. "Tell m-me a st-story," she gritted out through clenched teeth.

The dwarf was surprised at first before realizing she was asking him to distract her. He shifted positions so that he was sitting alongside her and began one of his favorites.

-==0==-

"How bad is it?" Bethany asked softly.

Fenris sighed. "I believe it will heal. However, it is likely to leave a scar."

She was silent for a few moments. "Fenris? Thank you…"

"For?"

"You saved me. That thing would have killed me if you hadn't stopped it."

He frowned. "Please, do not thank me."

She tilted her head sideways, but couldn't see him behind her. "Why do you say that?"

"I… it was my fault you were injured, that your sister was injured. Once again I acted impulsively, without thinking of the consequences."

"You're being too hard on yourself. I know my sister. There's no way she would have agreed to any deal with a demon, so you taking it by surprise probably kept us from having to fight it as well."

"I do not understand you… you should be angry at me, wanting to throw a fireball at me… not… consoling me."

Bethany giggled softly. "Oh, Fenris, I think you understand me just fine. You only need to admit it to yourself."

The elf squeezed his eyes shut, trying to push back the unwelcome feeling rising in his chest. He reminded himself over and over that she was a _mage_ of all things. She was inherently corrupt, an abomination in waiting. He _had _to resist.

Bethany sighed when she got no response. "It's alright… I understand you too."

-==0==-

A few minutes later Anders glanced back at Bethany and nodded.

"It's time…" he said, interrupting Varric's story. "Misery, keep this arm across your body like this. Varric, you're going to straddle her stomach and keep that arm pinned to her body. She's going to do everything she can to pull away from the heat, but you can't let her. Got it?"

"Got it."

When Anders returned once again from Bethany, he motioned Varric to move into position. He held out the scarf Bethany wore around her neck.

"Put this in her mouth. We don't need her biting her tongue off."

Varric smiled apologetically at Misery, who merely nodded in resignation and opened her mouth.

Anders took and released a deep breath once they were ready. "On the count of three – 1… 2… 3."

Misery screamed as the superheated blade seared flesh, sealing the wounds by melting the surrounding skin. She thrashed her head from side to side and strained trying to pull her hand away, but Varric held on for all he was worth.

The entire process lasted only seconds, but felt like much longer. As soon as it was over and Varric removed the scarf from her mouth, she turned her head and hurled what was left of her meager meal from hours earlier, accelerating the process of him getting off of her. She dragged herself over to Revas and curled up against him, laying the side of her head against his warm back as a pillow.

"Keep an eye on her, yell if you need me," Anders said. "I need to check on our other Hawke."

Varric nodded and went over to sit with Misery and Revas. She wasn't even attempting to hide the fact she was crying, a sign he didn't know whether to take as her being comfortable enough to do that in front of him or as just being so bad off as to not be able to do anything about it.

He stared at her mangled hand clutched against her stomach. Blondie had managed to reattach the middle finger that hadn't been completely severed, though it was currently swollen purple and didn't exactly look usable. Where the other two fingers had been weren't even nubs, just swollen, angry flesh stretched taut over the knuckles.

He felt a knot in his stomach at the thought that this all but ended her dual wielding days, as he didn't see how she could possibly control a dagger in combat with half a hand. He wondered if her thoughts had even gone in that direction yet, or even just what she was thinking about in general right now. After how he'd treated her following Bartrand's betrayal, however, he was afraid to ask.

Bartrand… Varric and he had never been close. Despite the age gap, the older dwarf had never shown any sort of paternal instincts towards his little brother, not even after their parents died. Still, Varric couldn't get over his big brother leaving him to die. It was ironic that it happened not long after he had joked about selling out Bartrand for a sovereign, a joke that was ridiculous because as much as he didn't get along with Bartrand, he'd never have sold him out for anything. He never imagined Bartrand doing it to him.

Yet here they were - sitting in near darkness in a forgotten thaig of a forgotten race of dwarves, beaten up and, in Misery's case, maimed by mythological creatures. And that damned dragon's horde, scales, and bones they'd left on Bodahn's cart – gone. Along with the rest of the loot they'd scavenged while clearing the way for the caravan.

Another bitter pill to swallow.

He sighed and moved his eyes away from Misery's hand to her face. That's when her anguish really hit home with him.

"I understand now what you meant…" he said softly.

Her eyes flicked in his direction but she didn't speak.

He forced a chuckle. "See, this is the part where you're supposed to say, 'Understand what?'"

"I-I'm listening… d-don't make me talk… please."

Varric nodded solemnly. "Back after you killed Gerav… you looked at me and said you didn't know what to say. At the time I was so pissed off at you that I didn't get it. But now I do… I'm sitting here with so much running through my mind… and I have no idea what to say to make things right. 'Sorry' just sounds so… stupid. I understand now… there are no words."

"Thank you anyway…" she whispered before closing her eyes.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Special thanks to xseikax for her very helpful feedback on the scene with Misery's injury, and to KyeShgall for the suggestion to have Bartrand trolling Varric about his "relationship" with Misery. And thank you of course to everyone else who has reviewed, favoritedalerted, or is even continuing to read this story. I very much appreciate the time you spend on it._


	29. Decision

The furious scratching of quill on page ceased only long enough for the dwarf to reload its ink. It was nearly the only sound of life permeating the still of the oppressively humid chamber. The group had taken down an ancient rock wraith in another arduous battle hours earlier, found the key to the sealed door amid a veritable trove of gold, silver, and assorted treasure, and were now in recovery mode before beginning the next leg of their journey to the surface.

Varric couldn't wait to get out of here. It was more than the desire to return to Kirkwall and kill Bartrand. That would come in due time. In fact, if the demon had been telling the truth about the path through the door ahead of them leading back to the surface, Varric hoped to beat Bartrand back to Kirkwall and be waiting with Bianca to greet him at the door of his Hightown estate.

It was also more than the sweltering, stagnant air of the room. They guessed there was a nearby lava flow that kept the air temperature here uncomfortably high. However, since it wasn't so oppressive as to be uninhabitable, Misery had opted to just collapse here after the battle rather than moving further forward into the unknown. As is was though, Varric was annoyed at how much effort it took to keep the perspiration dripping from his hands and arms off the journal's pages. Wet parchment and smeared ink weren't conducive to recording the details of this _expedition_.

The desire to leave was mostly his disgust at the piles of loot all but taunting him. The loot that Hawke had already decided would be mostly left behind. After the fifty gold pieces each had piled into their packs, nearly a thousand sovereign remained – 937 to be exact by Varric's count, mostly silvers and coppers. And that didn't even take into account the ancient pottery, artwork, and various ornate religious and household items.

She was right. Damn, he knew she was right. What in the Void did it matter if they took everything only to be so weighed down they couldn't effectively fight their way out of the Deep Roads, if they were so encumbered that they had to stop too frequently and their very limited food and water ran out long before they reached the surface? Dying with an unspent fortune was still dying.

He hated that she was right even while respecting her for it. It hadn't stopped him though from ranting about it until she turned her back on him and went to the far corner of the room, curling up into the shadows to the point where no one would know she was even there if they hadn't watched her go over and all but disappear.

He knew he owed her another apology. There was a reason she was in charge and not him. As irritating as she could be at times, she was keenly practical and when she did put her foot down about something she was almost always right. Not that it made it any easier to stomach leaving a fortune behind.

"You've been going to town on that journal for a couple of hours," Anders noted, taking a seat next to him. "Anything interesting?"

Varric paused his writing but didn't look up. "I'm ensuring that if we don't get out of here alive, whoever finds our corpses will know the truth of Bartrand Tethras. And while I'm no cartographer, I'm making damned sure that if we do get out of here alive, I know how to find my way back to all the treasure we're leaving."

Anders chuckled softly. "Still pissed at her about that?"

"Not at her… at the situation. What can I say? I'm a dwarf, leaving behind treasure is like leaving behind an arm."

He immediately cringed at the ill considered analogy and prayed Misery didn't hear it. He knew she was within earshot, but couldn't see into shadow to know if she was sleeping. Since the pup, Bethany, and Fenris were all asleep, he really hoped she was too.

"Ahhh… I mean…. shit."

Anders ignored the remark, not really caring either way about it. "Just count me out when you come back down here. I swear… I'm _done _with the Deep Roads after this. We're even for the _protection_ services."

"I hardly blackmailed you, Blondie. It was honest business. And that gold in your pack tells me you made a nice profit off of being here anyway."

"Regardless… no more Deep Roads."

Varric wiped his brow, sighing in irritation. "Anything else?"

"I'm not ready to sound the alarm, but we have a possible… situation."

The dwarf finally looked up from his journal to meet Anders' gaze. "What kind of situation?"

"Bethany… when I was healing her after that last fight, I noticed she was running a fever. I didn't ask her about it, but I'm concerned she might be… sick."

"Like catching a cold? I'd think we could spare a potion to take care of that."

"No…" he answered, his voice lowering even further in volume. "More like… blighted."

"What?" Varric exclaimed, jarring everyone awake with the outburst. "That would mean…"

Anders gestured for him to calm down. "I don't know that for sure." Using his eyes to tell Varric to keep a lid on it for now, he cryptically added, "We'll see… that's all we can do for now."

Varric scowled and then directed his glare back to his writing, ignoring the curious stares he knew were coming from the others.

Though he pretended to be focused on writing, his mind wasn't on it. Blondie had left him with far more questions than answers, and he felt like slapping the mage for dropping that on him and then saying he didn't know for certain. Varric didn't even want to imagine the possibilities. But he also couldn't stop himself, or stop the feeling of dread building within.

-==0==-

"Well, well… would you look at that?" Varric said, gesturing off in the distance to the thaig's entrance. "Pretty sure we're back to where we started from. Oh, is Bartrand ever in for a surprise."

Misery scowled. "If I had enough strength in my hand to draw back the bowstring, he'd be dead before he even saw it coming."

"Not to worry, Bianca is chomping at the bit."

As they got closer, however, it became apparent that no one was around.

Varric shook his head as they entered what had been the camp. "I don't get it. There's no way they looted the place fast enough to be done and gone already."

Anders nodded. "I'd only give it four maybe five days since the little bastard locked us in the temple."

After looking around some more, Misery stopped and frowned. "They left days ago."

"What makes you say that?" Varric asked.

Bethany answered. "The ashes from the campfire. You can tell by the lack of any solid pieces of wood they left it to burn down on its own, and these ashes have been cold for awhile."

Misery nodded in approval. "I'd bet Bartrand didn't stick around to find out if we'd get loose."

She did some quick math in her head. "If we stick together, we probably can't catch the caravan before it reaches Kirkwall. If Revas and I go on ahead, we can easily catch it – possibly even before it gets out of the Deep Roads."

"Unless you run into more darkspawn," Anders pointed out. "Just because we cleared the way once doesn't mean it will stay that way. And Bartrand had people besides us capable of providing protection."

"He's right, Sister. You're in no condition to fight either darkspawn or Bartrand's goons in any number."

Misery scowled, glancing down briefly at her bandaged right hand. Even though she was left-handed and it was her offhand that got mangled, her fighting ability was severely compromised. She couldn't use her bow and the hand was still too tender to wield even a knife, let alone a lengthier dagger.

Even if she could hold a blade in that hand at the moment, and if somehow her middle finger had regained its strength and flexibility, her effectiveness with it would be dubious. The missing fingers were the ones that provided stability and control to the grip. She'd be at risk of losing her grip every time forceful contact was made with the blade, whether from stabbing, slashing, or parrying something.

Also, her hand to hand fighting style was so conditioned to using both hands that single wielding felt completely foreign to her. It wasn't something she could simply flick a switch on and suddenly do proficiently in the heat of battle. She knew she had a lot of work ahead to retrain herself.

Misery glared bitterly at the others. "Fine…"

"It is not like we don't know where to find Bartrand," Fenris suggested. "And he will not know we are coming. So I don't see the point in pushing ourselves to catch up. Better to focus on simply getting out with our lives."

"And for once I couldn't agree more," Anders added.

"Alright…" Misery grumbled. "Let's go."

Bethany held up her hand. "Can we… rest for a bit?"

"You alright, Sunshine?"

She forced slight smile. "I'm just cold and tired."

"Cold?" Misery asked. "How can you possibly be cold?"

Varric flashed a quizzical glance at Anders, who closed his eyes briefly before moving over in front of his fellow mage. He held up the back of his hand to her cheek.

"Your fever hasn't gone down," he said. "Why did you tell me you felt fine earlier?"

"I-I didn't want to slow us down. I… need to get home."

Anders moved behind her, peeling back the poultice on her back to inspect the healing wound. He sighed in resignation at the blackened area around the long cut having gotten larger in the day since he'd last looked.

"That's not the way it works. You know that from experience."

"What are you talking about?" Misery asked.

"Tell her," Anders said to Bethany.

Bethany turned and frowned at the former Grey Warden. "You already knew, didn't you?"

"I had my suspicions. Now I'm positive. I'd just… hoped what I was sensing was from the area and not you specifically."

"Bethany?" Misery asked, beginning to get concerned.

The younger girl could hardly bring herself to face her sister without breaking down. In a life of difficulties, this was probably the most difficult thing yet. Her eyes watered as memories of her father flashed through her mind, memories of her childhood.

"Bethany?" Misery asked again.

"I… I'm… I'm n-not going to make it much longer. I'm… infected… like Father was."

"No!" Misery exclaimed, her face reflecting both fear and anger. "Not you! This cannot happen to you!"

"Sister…"

"When? H-how? Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"What could you have done? There was no swooping in to save me this time."

Misery's mind was racing. She backtracked through all the darkspawn they'd fought both before and after her injury. All of a sudden it hit her. She looked down at her offending appendage and gasped.

"Me…" she whispered as if in disbelief. "You… you got hurt… because of… _me_…"

Fenris lowered his head. "No… she was hurt, as were you, because of my actions."

"Wouldn't have even been in the situation if not for my brother," Varric added. "Or even in the Deep Roads at all if not for me."

He didn't actually feel guilty, but rather was hoping the other two would get the hint that blaming themselves was a foolish waste of time and energy.

Anders smirked very slightly. "You mean I'm the only one here without fault? That's new…"

Bethany sighed. She really wanted to break down in self-pity, but forced herself to at least pretend to be strong. "It just happened. No one is to blame."

"You have fought many tainted creatures," Anders noted. "Here, while going after Corypheus, back in Ferelden. Tempt fate long enough and eventually it catches up to you."

"Why not me?" Misery demanded. "How did I escape being tainted? Dammit! If anyone got tainted, it should have been me!"

Anders shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Sometimes there isn't a reason, it simply… is."

"S-sister?" Bethany asked. "I-I want to go home… t-to see Mother before I… I…" She trailed off, not being able to give voice to that finality.

Misery closed her eyes tightly, willing herself not to cry. Despite her efforts, however, she did so anyway. She lunged forward and wrapped Bethany up tightly in her arms.

"Of course…" she whispered, blowing out a long breath. "I will get you home."

-==0==-

Fenris shifted uncomfortably as Bethany slid down the wall to sit next to him. In the two days since finding out she was dying he hadn't spoken more than a handful of words total, and could barely bring himself to gaze upon her whenever the possibility existed that she could notice and return that gaze.

Trying to set the elf at ease, she forced a smile. "You don't have to avoid me. Anders assures me I'm not contagious, at least not unless I start bleeding on you."

"I…" he began before pausing and shaking his head. "Sorry." He bowed his head shamefully.

After a prolonged silence, Bethany reached over and took his hand. She felt him tense, resisting momentarily before giving in and letting her have his hand.

"I have a very important favor to ask," she said. Bethany waited until he finally turned his head to meet her gaze. "When it comes time… w-would you be the one to… to…"

She bit down on her quivering bottom lip. Even having rehearsed this in her mind, she was still unable to turn the swelling tide of grief.

Fenris' eyes grew wide in realization of where this question was going. He pulled his hand away. "You cannot ask that of me!"

Bethany had dwelled on her mortality and its inevitable outcome over the last few days, and had come to the conclusion that she wanted to do as her father had done and go out on her own terms, with a trusted friend mercifully ending her suffering after she'd said her goodbyes. As she considered her options, her first thought had been Anders.

However, she had serious doubts as to Miri being able to cope with him being the one to do it. And that was a convenient enough rationalization to keep her from facing the deeper truth, that even though she still considered him a friend, she hadn't felt comfortable with him ever since their breakup. There was something unsettling about him that she couldn't pinpoint, something she wondered if always was there but she hadn't noticed until she stopped giving him a de facto benefit of the doubt.

It also hadn't helped that when Miri grilled him about the Grey Warden cure to the blight sickness, he was hesitant to explain why _he _couldn't provide the cure, and even more reluctant to seek out Grey Warden help on her behalf. She vaguely knew something related to Justice caused him to leave the Wardens, but it still bothered her that she apparently wasn't important enough to him to take to the Wardens without hesitation.

While Bethany was afraid of dying, she didn't want to join the Grey Wardens in exchange for their cure. Anders' reluctance to fight for her survival sapped what little will to seek them out she'd started with, leaving her resigned to accepting her impending death. And when Miri didn't push her to go to the Wardens anyway, Bethany became determined to face her death with dignity, as her father had.

Bethany thought about asking Varric to be the one, but realized he would refuse to kill her no matter what. She suspected that was as much about Miri as it was about her, as she wasn't blind to how close those two had become. And even if Varric would agree, she wasn't sure she would risk her death becoming a wedge between them, as she felt Wesley sometimes was with Miri and Aveline.

That left her with Fenris, the mage hating elf. Her initial thought was that even though the two of them had seemed to develop an understanding that could almost be construed as friendship, he would leap at the chance to rid the world of another mage. That was a thought she quickly dismissed though.

After Varric had once pointed out that Fenris kept an eye on her in a way he didn't the other mages, she began to pay attention. Fenris was discreet, but she realized he was rather protective of her. She assumed it was because she'd been the one that originally championed his cause and was the one that usually pushed for his inclusion on various jobs, but regardless of his motives it gave her a warm feeling, an unspoken comfort with him around. The more she thought about it, the more asking Fenris to be the one just felt right, at least if making such a request could ever truly feel _right_.

Bethany tried to smile in reassurance at Fenris' wide-eyed, shocked expression, but her lips wouldn't cooperate.

"I'm j-just another m-mage to be put down, r-right?" she whispered hoarsely. Even though she felt he didn't believe that anymore, she hoped the question would cause him to admit she'd convinced him otherwise.

When he didn't answer, she added, "I-I don't want to die… but already my blood feels like it is boiling. I'm not going to see home again… it… it's too far… this sickness is progressing too fast."

"Does your sister know this?" His eyes flicked over to the rogue sitting across the room with her head in her hands, the one who had said almost nothing to anyone since finding out about Bethany.

Bethany shook her head. "Not yet… But I-I don't… want her to see me… die. I don't want her to remember me that way. I wouldn't do that to her."

"You wish to control the circumstances of your death in order to protect her?"

"Yes… but… I would be lying if I said that was all of it. It… it h-hurts, Fenris. I'm scared… I'm so scared… I c-can't imagine how Father fought this sickness for a month, h-how much pain he must have endured by the end."

She took a deep breath, attempting to calm her nerves before continuing. "I'm not asking you to do it now. I will bear the pain until it becomes too much, but at the rate the corruption has spread I am only expecting a few more days. Fenris… I… I wouldn't ask this of you if I didn't trust you. I know you would be compassionate and merciful. It is… for me… better than the alternatives of dying in battle to a darkspawn, or continuing on until the corruption takes my mind and body and all I know is the pain."

Fenris rubbed his face wearily. "A mage asks me to kill her, and all I can think of is how to keep her alive. What have you done to me?" Though his tone was solemn, his question was in jest.

She didn't speak her answer, but instead reached out and took his hand again. Her eyes communicated both a sadness and hopefulness. She hoped he would understand the depth of both.

He finally blew out an exasperated breath. "Will you not reconsider the Grey Wardens?"

"I… I don't know." She bowed her head and closed her eyes. "It's probably too late for that anyway. With this shortcut that Varric had us take, I don't even know how far we are from… anywhere."

Fenris took what was for him a very bold step. With a deep breath he reached up with his free hand and placed it against her jawline, gently but firmly lifting and turning her head to face him. Her eyes snapped open in surprise, but she didn't turn away even after he withdrew the hand. His expression was as serious as she'd ever seen it.

"If I am able get you to them, would you be willing to try? I understand what they have done to your family. However, if the abomination… errr… Anders is to be believed, the Grey Wardens in Ferelden are a particularly honorable sort. Perhaps once you have recovered… you would be able to return to your homeland and join them."

Bethany touched her face where his hand had been. Despite not ever having had any romantic thoughts about Fenris, the contact had left a sensation in its wake that she wished would return. She unconsciously tightened her grip on the hand she still held.

"You… you really want to help me?"

She could see the conflict etched on his face. His eyes shifted back and forth almost nervously as he searched for words.

"I would not see your life needlessly lost. You are…" He paused before shaking his head. "More than that I am not comfortable speaking."

Bethany blinked back the tears that were reforming. In his eyes she was able to glean meaning that went unspoken. In the grand scheme of life it was an exceedingly minor victory to have convinced one abused former slave with deep rooted beliefs that there was even one decent mage in all of Thedas worthy of his respect, but it made her very happy anyway.

Once she composed herself, she began to nod slowly. "Let's talk to the others. If there is a chance of reaching the Grey Wardens, I promise I'll honor your faith in me and fight this corruption for all I'm worth."

Fenris gulped slightly at the emotion her words were stirring in him, but merely nodded and began assisting her to her feet.

-==0==-

"Guess it's just you and me," Anders said sarcastically, gesturing in reference to Bethany/Fenris and Misery/Varric paired off by themselves. "Wicked Grace?" he asked, waving the deck of cards in the air.

The mabari stood and barked excitedly.

"What do you mean you'll let me win this time?"

Revas barked again.

Anders huffed. "No, I am _not _the worst player in the group! I am much better than… well, Merrill anyway. Maker… I'm really that bad, eh?"

Revas licked the mage on the back of the hand, causing him to chuckle. "Sure… butter me up, why don't you? Fine… I'll deal."

-==0==-

"Hey…" Varric said after sitting down next to Misery. "Keep this up and you're going to officially take the 'Master Brooder' title away from the master brooder himself."

Misery didn't bother taking her face out of her hand or acknowledging the statement in any manner.

Varric sighed. She had withdrawn to her dark place as Sunshine once called it. Ordinarily he was inclined to stay out of her way while it ran its course, but his concern for her prompted this intervention. When she still gave no reaction to his presence, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away from her face.

"Stop this," he said sternly. "In case you've forgotten, your sister is dying."

Misery's temper ignited immediately. "Do you think I'm stupid? I know _exactly_ what's going on."

"Do you? Really? You're not stupid, Misery, but you're _being _oh so stupid about this."

"Shut up and leave me alone."

Varric returned her hard glare. "No, listen to me. Sunshine doesn't have much time left, and you're pissing that time away."

He pointed across the room to Fenris and Bethany sitting together, speaking quietly and holding hands. "_Fenris_ of all people is comforting her. Have you even considered how guilty you're making her feel, or how much she needs your support through this?"

"Are you quite done?"

"Whatever is eating at you… you need to set it aside. For her sake and yours. Don't let her go with a bunch of things you spend the rest of your life wishing you'd told her. Don't let her die scared that she let you down."

Misery nodded curtly. She didn't say anything in reply, but Varric was able to see in her shifting expression that his words hit home. He allowed his own expression to soften and was about to say more when he noticed Fenris and Bethany rising from their spot.

Bethany tapped Anders on the way by and motioned for join them.

"What's up?" Varric asked curiously as the others approached.

Bethany chewed nervously on her bottom lip. "I… I've changed my mind… about the Grey Wardens."

Misery closed her eyes, unconsciously sighing in relief. When she'd grilled Anders about the Grey Warden cure right after finding out about Bethany, her grand plan was to get Bethany to the Wardens, get her cured, and then bail on them like Anders did and go home to Kirkwall. Anders quickly shot that down, however.

He made it clear that the Wardens were not going to let Bethany leave voluntarily, that if she went to them she was signing up for life. When Misery challenged him on that, he finally came clean and admitted that he'd been exiled over Justice, that he hadn't left them of his own accord like he'd previously told them.

He didn't go into detail about what happened, that he'd gotten into an argument with a new warden who'd been a rather zealous templar, and in a rage Anders/Justice killed the man along with several other wardens who were present. Only Warden Commander Alistair and Velanna knew the truth of what he'd done, which was probably the only reason he was still alive. Alistair was compassionate to a fault, and the Dalish Velanna couldn't be bothered to care what he'd done to some shemlens.

After reality set in with the Hawke sisters and they understood that if Bethany went through with becoming a Grey Warden she would have to remain in their service, the girls' enthusiasm for that plan quickly waned. Given their history with the Wardens, Misery was torn but wanted Bethany to do it anyway. Her attitude was survive first, figure out how to make the situation work to their advantage later.

Bethany, on the other hand, wasn't so inclined to seek them out. She and Misery had briefly argued before Misery bitterly told her it was her life, even if her decision was to go home and die. The sisters had barely spoken in the following two days.

"She needs our help reaching the Grey Wardens," Fenris added to Bethany's statement about changing her mind. He scowled at Anders. "I do not care about your problems with the Grey Wardens. How soon can we reach ones capable of performing that Joining ritual for her?"

Bethany grabbed the elf's arm. "Please don't antagonize him."

Anders frowned at the physical closeness of those two, and how Bethany's hands seemed to linger longer than necessary before withdrawing from Fenris' arm. A wave of jealousy washed over him, carrying with it the urge to snidely ask if she was fucking him too. He bit it back, however, instead focusing on the question at hand.

"I know where a Warden outpost is that we'll be able to reach before she is too weak to travel."

Varric chuckled. "What do you think, Blondie? Three days out?"

"Pull out the maps and let's take another look."

Misery folded her arms across her chest while Varric retrieved the maps from his pack. "What do you mean _another_ look?"

Varric didn't answer as he moved over next to Anders so they could both view the maps.

"She's slowing down," Anders noted, "So realistically we're looking at four days yet to reach the outpost. That's assuming we don't run into major resistance along this passage, though I'd expect the closer we get the less likely we'll encounter darkspawn."

"I… I think I can make it four more days…" Bethany said softly. "But not much more than that." She didn't look at her sister, but knew full well that Miri was directing an expression full of question and concern at her right now.

"The sickness is progressing too quickly," she explained unprompted. "I don't have enough time left to make it to Kirkwall."

Varric nodded solemnly. "Hang in there, Sunshine. You just concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other, and leave all the work along the way to us."

"Thank you…" she replied, smiling briefly. "For that matter, I've rested enough for now. We should continue onwards."

Anders traced his finger along the map. "There are a few twists and turns, but for the most part we'll continue in the direction we've been going."

Misery's eyes darted back and forth suspiciously between Anders and Varric. "Awfully convenient that this Warden outpost just happens to be on the way to the surface this _shortcut _of yours is taking us."

"I know, right?" Varric answered, chuckling. "Crazy good luck for once. If we'd stayed on the original path, we probably wouldn't have had enough time to backtrack and still make the outpost."

Bethany glanced back and forth between her sister, Varric, and Anders. She would've bet money that her sister was behind this, except that she genuinely seemed just as uninformed about what was going on.

"Don't look at me," Anders offered unprompted. "Wasn't my idea."

Bethany's eyes settled on Varric, who just shrugged. He didn't speak, but couldn't stop the twitching of his lips into a slight smirk. Bethany shook her head while smirking back.

"Give me your pack," Misery said, interrupting the silent exchange. "I'll carry it."

Bethany flashed a concerned look. "I think you're weighed down enough as it is."

"Doesn't matter. We're cutting this too close for comfort, so we'll do whatever we can to keep your strength up. The only thing I want you carrying is your staff. You're also getting what's left of my rations."

"Sister…"

"Please don't argue with me, Bethany. It won't kill me to go without food until we reach the outpost. I am _not_ squandering this chance to keep you alive."

Misery moved close enough to whisper into her sister's ear. "I need you to not be stubbornly independent right now. All that I am is yours. Use me… please… I beg this of you."

Bethany closed her eyes and rested her forehead on her sister's shoulder while sliding her arms around her. She understood now that Miri hadn't been angry at her these last couple of days, and exhaled slowly in relief as the guilt that had been weighing on her began to dissipate.

At the same time, sadness began to seep in at the realization that Miri was already struggling to cope with the impending reality of her younger sister no longer being part of her day-to-day life. Bethany also realized they had much to discuss before parting ways. And that she needed to send a letter with Miri for their mother, to hopefully convince her not to blame Miri for this. She prayed this wouldn't destroy the mother/daughter relationship that was still in the early, fragile stage of healing.

"I will try…" she finally answered softly in response to Miri's request. "Thank you."

-==0==-

Progress was even slower than anticipated, with Bethany slowing more each day due to weakness. By the time they reached the Grey Warden outpost on the fifth day, she was almost unable to walk on her own even with the aid of her staff. Misery, Fenris, and Anders took turns assisting, bearing much of her weight so she could continue onward, while Varric carried more than his share of the equipment to ease their burdens. Spotting the outpost brought great relief to all. None of them would voice it, but all questioned how much longer Bethany had left.

"State your business," one the wardens guarding the entrance said as the group approached, wary simply because this outpost rarely saw visitors. He could sense the taint in two of the five, though he judged Bethany's appearance to mean she was blighted rather than being a warden. He wasn't certain of the other.

Misery's snark had been beaten out of her by the difficulty of the journey getting here and the gravity of the situation. She met the Warden's serious gaze with her own.

"We need your help. My sister is dying from darkspawn corruption."

He nodded, suspecting as much. "You mean to bring her here as a recruit then?"

Anders waved his hand. "I am a Warden. Is Stroud still the commander here? I would speak this matter over with him."

The guard scratched at his chin while contemplating this. "Yes…" he finally answered. "Who should I say is inquiring?"

"Tell him it's Anders. He will know me. We… go back."

"Very well. Wait here."

The man went inside, leaving his partner to watch these people in front of the gated entrance. Anders turned to the others.

"Well, we're here. I must warn you though. Stroud will be resistant for no other reason than Bethany's blight sickness having progressed so far. Let me handle convincing him."

"Why would that matter?" Misery asked.

"It… complicates things."

It was nearly an hour before Stroud came out to greet them, accompanied by a quartet of men at his back. Misery raised an eyebrow curiously at the show of force, but said nothing. Anders smirked at the sight of him.

"Surely you didn't keep us waiting while you polished your armor?" he asked sarcastically.

Despite being at an outpost in the Deep Roads, Stroud's Warden Regalia gleamed. It was obviously well cared for, as was the silverite greatsword slung over his shoulder.

"Anders," Stroud answered in a thick Orlesian accent. "Why are you here? I thought you were done with the Deep Roads and fighting darkspawn?"

Misery noted the tension in the man's tone and body language. He might be familiar with Anders, but it wasn't a comfortable familiarity. She remained silent while continuing to observe.

Anders sensed Stroud's anxiety at seeing him, but forced a laugh in an effort to keep the tension from rising further. "Oh, I got suckered into an adventure for lost treasure and such. Darkspawn were an unfortunate consequence of that. Look, Stroud… I came here to see you. My friend is blighted. Only the Grey Wardens can save her now."

Stroud looked Bethany over much like one would evaluate a slab of meat at the market before shaking his head. "I'm sorry. I know this comes as no comfort to you, but we do not recruit Grey Wardens out of pity. Being a Grey Warden is a calling, not a cure."

Misery clenched her teeth in anger, it taking all of her willpower not to jump down his throat.

Anders waved his hand dismissively. "Save the propaganda for someone who doesn't know better. In Ferelden there were more Wardens by circumstance than by any sort of noble call to be one."

When the commander only scowled in response, Anders continued, "Stroud, trust me when I say she is worth your time. She is as strong a battlemage as you'll find anywhere. I _know _the Wardens are always in need of mages."

"Be that as it may, I cannot. Look at her, Anders. You know she won't make it."

Misery's temper finally bested her. "Fucking Grey Wardens!" she growled. "How much do you want for your cure? I will buy it from you and take her home if you don't want her in your ranks. That would be our preference anyway!"

An expression of sympathy formed on the Orlesian's face. "You misunderstand me. The means of mastering the taint places a tremendous strain on the body. For her it would be as much a death sentence as the sickness."

Misery's eyes darted wildly between Anders, Stroud, and the other wardens. "What are you saying, that your _cure_ might kill her?"

"She'll die anyway!" Anders exclaimed, ignoring Misery's question. "Take her and try… I'm asking you… _please_."

Stroud sighed in exasperation. "Our supplies for conducting the Joining are low. What do I get out of this if she dies on me? I need _wardens_, not gold."

"You will have me," Misery stated matter-of-factly.

"Sister… no…" Bethany protested immediately. "Mother needs you! She can't lose both of us!"

"Then you'd damned well better show some of that Hawke spirit and survive."

Bethany closed her eyes. "I w-won't do it… not at that price."

Anders felt tightness in his chest, not being able to help but feel the emotional pull of each sister being willing to lay everything on the line for the other. And while he'd been at peace with losing Bethany as his lover awhile back, he still cared for her. She was the closest thing to a true friend he had. He wanted her to at least have the chance of the Joining. At the same time, he knew it would only happen if Misery becoming a warden wasn't a possibility. He took a deep breath, hoping what he was about to do wouldn't have the side effect of getting him killed.

"Forget it, Misery, the Grey Wardens have no use for you." He turned back to Stroud and continued, "She was only of marginal skill anyway before losing most of her hand. A one-armed scoundrel with an attitude problem is hardly worth the trouble of putting her through the Joining."

"What?" Misery exclaimed loudly, nearly trembling in rage.

Her legs propelled her towards him of their own volition until Varric stepped in front of her. Anders did his best not to react to her, keeping his gaze trained on Stroud.

"I once did you a favor without asking anything in return. I'm asking you for something in return now. Put Bethany through the Joining."

Much more than that was silently communicated back and forth between the men before Stroud threw his hands up in resignation. "Fine, we will try. Then we are even, understood?"

Anders nodded, winking at the man.

Stroud turned to one of the men with him. "Run ahead and have the Joining prepared. She will take it as soon as it is ready." He then turned and glared at Bethany, not out of any disgust for her but out of frustration with the situation.

"I suggest you say your goodbyes and make your peace with the Maker." It was clear what he thought her chances of survival were. "Anders, you may bring your companions inside. As you know, they will not be permitted to attend the Joining ceremony."

"Will you allow me to attend?" the former Grey Warden asked. "It isn't like it's a secret to me."

Stroud contemplated this for a moment before nodding. "Very well."


	30. The End  but not The End

For a starving woman, Misery acted nothing like the sort, spending far more time absentmindedly pushing the food around her plate than actually taking bites. Along with Varric and Fenris, she sat at a table in what passed for a mess hall in this Grey Warden outpost, with Revas curled up on the floor behind her. Only a few wardens were present in the room, as most of the couple dozen men and women stationed here were at the hastily assembled Joining ceremony.

"Not eating isn't going to help her," Varric said quietly. "We're at least a week from Kirkwall. You need to get your strength back for the rest of the journey home."

Misery's eyes shifted from the plate to the dwarf and then back down. "Don't worry… I won't slow you down."

Something about her tone was unsettling, though he wasn't quite sure what it was. "You _do _still intend to return to Kirkwall, right?"

"Yeah… Bethany made me promise, and I won't break my word. Besides, I'm going to assume Bartrand got out of the Deep Roads alive, and that's something I need to rectify."

Varric nodded. "I'm with you. Don't doubt me on that."

"I know. I'm done doubting you." She sighed. "I just wish they'd tell us something about Bethany. Shouldn't they know either way by now? It's been more than an hour."

Fenris shrugged. "It could be one of those grandiose ceremonies where they take turns speaking for a very long time before anything happens."

Though he appeared indifferent, Fenris was anything but. He was anxious to know, even more so since the Warden in charge had been so openly skeptical of her chances. Fenris was still angry at Anders for not revealing the truth of the Warden cure. He'd seen the hope all but flicker and die in Bethany's eyes when Stroud informed them she wasn't strong enough to survive the Joining.

Fenris was also struggling to even look at the Hawkes without feeling guilty for his role in this. He wasn't sure he could take being around Misery if Bethany died, despite Bethany's repeated reassurances that neither Hawke ascribed any blame to him. It would be a constant reminder.

"Blondie said he'd let us know as soon as he could," Varric said. "He managed to convince his guy to even put her through it, so I trust he won't leave us hanging."

Misery scoffed. Even if she wasn't annoyed with the former Grey Warden for what he'd said about her, she wouldn't ever use the word _trust _in relation to him, at least not in a positive way.

"Speak of the abomination… and the abomination appears…" Fenris muttered, gesturing towards the far side of the room. Anders strode towards them, his expression maddeningly non-committal.

-==0==-

Stroud stood before the assembled wardens, a semi-circle nearly two dozen in number facing the dais. The recruit managed to stand on her own in the center, though she was leaning heavily on her staff to keep herself upright.

"Bethany Hawke," Stroud drawled out in his thick accent. He gestured to the Grey Warden mage robes she now adorned. "You stand before us a Grey Warden in name. Now it is time for you to submit to the Joining, to become a Grey Warden in blood."

He stepped forward with the golden chalice in hand. "I will recite the words that have been spoken since our beginning. And then you will drink."

Stroud knew she would die, but he would see that she died with the dignity befitting all Grey Wardens, whether they paid the price for their sacrifice at the Joining or later.

_Join us brothers and sisters.  
>Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant.<br>Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn.  
>And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten.<br>And that one day we shall join you._

With that, Stroud nodded solemnly to Bethany and took a step back.

Bethany stared briefly at the viscous, dark liquid. She swirled it around much like someone would a glass of fine wine. The moment was now, and she realized she wasn't afraid. She was at peace no matter the outcome. Mostly she was just glad that the pain was going to end one way or another. After several long moments she took and released a deep breath and raised the chalice to her lips.

The putrid smell was enough to cause her stomach to do flips, but the liquid cascading over her taste buds was even worse. She gagged, squeezing her lips closed in order to prevent the disgusting fluid from escaping. Grimacing, she finally choked it down.

"Yuck…" she groaned.

Silence took hold as everyone waited for the inevitable violent reaction, the convulsions, the passing out, and the tense seconds that elapsed while an accounting was taken of the recruit's lifesigns. The tension only grew more palpable with each passing moment of no apparent reaction from the girl.

Bethany raised an eyebrow quizzically as she took in all of the stares. She felt a thumping in her chest, a pounding in her head, and slowly became aware of a different sensation tickling her senses. It was almost as if she could sense the life around her. No… she realized it was awareness not of life, but of the taint. She could _feel_ the taint radiating from her now fellow Grey Wardens.

"Is there anything more to this?" she asked.

Stroud's eyes opened wide in shock. "Check her!" he demanded of a healer.

Anders scoffed. "I'm sure you can feel it within her now, Stroud. I can and so should everyone else in this room."

Stroud took the now empty chalice and looked it over. "Something must have been wrong with the preparation."

The healer went over and checked the newest Warden anyway. "She's good, Commander. Her body took the taint, she is one of us."

"That… that is impossible!"

Murmurs were coursing through the crowd by this point. Bethany shook her head. "I know you expected me to die, but… is it really that impossible that I lived?"

"In all my years… I have _never_ seen a recruit take the Joining without passing out immediately. As weak as you were – are – I don't understand how you only reacted like you took a swing of that piss Fereldans call beer. And yes, I… am surprised you survived at all. Grateful, but surprised."

Anders scratched at the stubble on his cheek. "Maybe her body didn't react much to the Joining because there was little difference at that point. I mean, she couldn't get much more tainted than she already was."

Bethany smirked. "If it makes you feel better, I do have a headache and really wouldn't mind taking a nap."

Stroud seemed to contemplate this for a few moments before bursting out in laughter. "Well, Hawke, you certainly made a fool out of me, didn't you? Let me be the first to welcome you, Sister."

"Sister!" Bethany gasped, her eyes growing wide. "I need to go see my sister, let her know I made it through. She must be worried sick by now."

"I'll go," Anders said. "You go rest. I'll tell the others that you'll come find us once you've woken up."

Bethany smiled appreciatively. "Thank you, Anders… for everything."

He nodded, returning the smile while resisting the urge to tell her to remember she said that when she woke up in a cold sweat from the nightmares, or when she found out it was only a postponed death sentence, or that she could probably forget ever being a mother, or any number of other Grey Warden realities.

-==0==-

"Now that's Sunshine!" Varric exclaimed, hollering in excitement as she held her staff to the throat of the warrior at her feet.

Bethany had made short work of her sparring partner, who completely underestimated the mage's ability to hold her own in close combat. Even with not yet having her full strength back, she'd made him pay for that mistake.

Stroud, who was among several wardens observing the latest recruit, clapped in approval. "And once again Hawke proves to be full of surprises."

Misery stared at her still bandaged hand and sighed. _It's just as well that she no longer needs me. She has surpassed me anyway. _

Bethany gave a mock curtsey, drawing laughter as she turned and offered a hand to her felled opponent. In the four days since the Joining, Bethany's health had steadily improved and she was rapidly becoming her old self again. And that continued to leave her older sister struggling with her conflicted emotions.

There was relief of course. Misery was exceedingly grateful that Varric and Anders put them in a position to reach the Grey Wardens in time, and that Fenris lent his strength for longer periods than anyone in providing Bethany with physical assistance. And relief that Bethany was able to survive the Joining.

Sadness… Misery knew that with Bethany recovering, it was approaching time for them to leave. No one was pressuring her, but she could sense her companions' growing restlessness nonetheless. She didn't want to leave her sister though. It went against her entire upbringing. And despite intellectually understanding that things would never again be like they were, she was still having difficulty accepting the reality that protecting Bethany was no longer her duty.

Duty… a word that now filled Misery with self-loathing. In her mind, Bethany was no longer her duty because she'd failed once again to protect her family. For all of her efforts, she once again came up short. And she could only imagine how badly Mother was going to react upon learning that Misery lost Bethany. She had no idea what she'd do or where she'd go if Mother threw her out and said to never come back.

Jealousy… Misery wouldn't admit it to herself, but seeing Bethany almost back to full strength also served as a painful reminder that she herself would never again be whole. Misery understood now that Anders had ridiculed her in front of the Grey Wardens for Bethany's benefit, to ensure Misery wasn't accepted as a potential recruit pending Bethany's outcome, but Misery saw truth in the words anyway. And the way the wardens continued to fawn on Bethany while Misery couldn't even draw a bowstring left her feeling perfectly useless. She was beginning to resent the dramatic role reversal that left her in her little sister's shadow.

Fear… Even knowing Bethany no longer needed her, Misery was so conditioned to worry about Bethany that she was afraid to leave her. Beyond that, she was frightened by the prospect of a life without purpose. Once she returned to Kirkwall and killed Bartrand, what then? She still had Mother to look after, assuming Mother didn't disown her. But her life was suddenly no longer constrained by the need to protect Bethany and she had no idea how to handle that. How could she simply stop filtering every word and action through someone else's needs? For as selfish as she was often accused of being, Misery didn't truly know how to be selfish.

Pride… Despite the negative emotions swirling like a vortex, Misery also felt an intense pride in her sister. Bethany was everything she could have hoped for, and seeing her show these wardens a thing or two about the Hawkes was immensely satisfying. While watching Bethany continue to spar, images of her through the years flew through Misery's mind.

She remembered the little girl determined to keep up with her twin brother and older sister, the one who was never content to be defined by her magic, the one who wanted nothing more than to be normal but couldn't, who cried many tears over that, yet never let it crush her spirit.

Misery remembered the teen girl that hid in her shadow not because she wanted to, but out of necessity. The one who managed to blossom anyway, who became so adept at hiding her magic that Misery didn't worry much about leaving her in Lothering with Mother when she and Carver left for Ostagar.

Misery thought about the nearly two years since Lothering. How Bethany really came into her own, becoming increasingly independent. And Misery realized that was also out of necessity. Her little sister was a grown woman, an adult, and one who needed her own space to spread her wings. Her sanity alone demanded it. That Misery had never mentally prepared for the day when Bethany flew from the nest didn't mean it wasn't going to happen.

It didn't help her feel any better though.

A sudden loud yelp from Misery's side startled her to the point she almost leapt from her seat. She blinked, realizing she'd been so lost in thought that she'd also lost awareness of her surroundings in the process. She glanced over to see Bethany helping up another sparring victim.

Varric laughed. "Thedas to Misery. Thedas calling Misery. Are you there?"

"Was just… thinking about things."

The dwarf didn't bother pointing out the obviousness of that. Instead he replied, "You're missing out on Sunshine working these guys over. An amazing comeback from the brink of death, she's gonna make a great story."

Misery smirked. "Yeah, well, when you tell it just make sure you give her something decent to wear. That Grey Warden armor is ridiculous. All the stars and stripes make it look like she got tangled up in a flag."

Varric laughed. He hoped cracking a joke meant Misery was turning the corner on the depression she'd been in ever since her injury.

"Consider it done."

-==0==-

"I-I suppose it's that time, isn't it?" Bethany asked quietly.

It was the next day and Misery had reluctantly accepted that the time had come to depart for Kirkwall. Now the two sisters were off by themselves after Bethany said her goodbyes to the others. And while Misery had prepared for this conversation, she was unenthusiastic at best to have it.

Misery sighed. "I know."

Bethany tried to find a smile. "I'll be alright, you know?"

"I know."

"I was just as skeptical about this Grey Warden business, but… most of them have been really nice. I think I'll even have some good friends here. One of the women, Aelita, reminds me a lot of you."

That elicited a smirk from Misery. "Can I trust you to stay away from her then?"

"You're incorrigible."

"Yeah… number twenty-three on my list of shortcomings, remember? A list that seems to be growing…"

It was Bethany's turn to sigh. "Are _you _going to be alright?"

"I'm always alright. You know that."

"When are you going to stop doing this?"

Misery shrugged. "I don't know… maybe when I actually manage to convince myself."

"I admit… I'm more worried about you than I am about myself. This… situation is not what I want, but I'll make the best of it. If I have to be Grey Warden, I'll be one you can be proud of. But you seem so sad… and I don't know how to make it better."

"Forgive me for failing my duty," Misery whispered, closing her eyes. "Forgive me for not being strong enough to protect you, for leaving you, for… failing you."

"Miri… no… there's nothing to forgive. You did nothing wrong, please believe that. It was _my _decision to go on the expedition. I knew it would be dangerous. It's not your fault I wouldn't let you talk me out of it."

Misery shook her head. "I know you don't need me watching out for you anymore… Maker, you are even stronger than me… but I don't know what else to do. You're my duty, how do I let go of that?"

"Look at me." When Misery opened her eyes and met her sister's gaze, Bethany continued, "I am _not _stronger than you. But you're right… I don't _need _you watching out for me anymore. You know why? Because of you."

"I don't understand. You don't need me because of me?"

Bethany nodded. "You finished Father's work. I am capable of standing on my own, with or without magic, because of all you've done for me. Miri, you didn't fail in your duty… you _fulfilled_ it. And I can never thank you enough for that."

Misery bit down on her bottom lip, trying to prevent it from trembling. "Y-you really believe that?"

"I do… you demand too much of yourself. Maker knows how proud of you Father would be. I couldn't be more proud of you. I wish you would believe in yourself the way I believe in you."

Misery finally lost the battle to hold the tears back, which in turn caused Bethany to cry as well. The younger girl embraced her sister, holding her tightly.

"I-I love you, Bethany… I don't want to lose you."

"You aren't losing me, I swear this to you. You'll always mean the world to me… no matter what."

Misery took a deep breath that she blew out unsteadily while trying to keep from turning any further into a blubbering mess than she already was. The hardened shell she'd built around her heart seemed to offer no protection anymore when it came to her sister. Nor did it help that she also planned on a second painful parting.

Bethany pulled back after a minute of shared silence. "I promise I will get to Kirkwall as soon as I can to see you and Mother. Stroud said we will leave here in a week's time to scout something out near Wildervale, perhaps when that is done I'll be able to detour through Kirkwall. If I write you, will you write back?"

Misery nodded slowly while wiping her eyes. "Of course. You need only let me know how I'm supposed to get a letter to you without delivering it myself. If you'll even be at this outpost long-term."

"I… I will let you know what I find out. It's too early for me to make plans, but depending on how things go I might see if I can go to Ferelden and join the Grey Wardens there. From what Anders says, they'll be clearing remnants of darkspawn from the Blight for years, and that just seems more… important… than whatever we are doing here."

"It would be even harder to see you if you moved back to Ferelden…" Misery lamented. "Still… everything we've heard is that it's a disaster. I suppose if you have no choice on this Grey Warden business, doing it on behalf of our homeland would be… well, more tolerable anyway."

"Don't worry… I will never forget what the Wardens did to our family. And Maker help them if I find out any of the ones here were involved with Corypheus."

Misery nodded. "Speaking of tying up loose ends, I'm still going to take out Bartrand when I get back. And he'd better hope my mood by then is good enough to make his death quick."

Bethany's face scrunched up in consternation. "I'm all for that, yet… it might be better to let Varric do it if he shows any inclination to do so."

"Why's that?"

"I just don't want to see that come between you two. I mean, I think it's safe to say that Varric cares for you."

Misery shrugged. "Yeah, we're friends. What of it? He even said he still wants to kill that bastard."

"You really haven't noticed?"

"Noticed _what_?"

Bethany giggled softly. "For someone who takes pride in her observational skills, you can be so oblivious sometimes. Varric _cares_ for you, as in-"

She stopped herself and shook her head. With a mischievous grin she added, "No, never mind. You'll figure it out when you're ready."

Misery's eyes opened wide as she caught on. "You're drunk!" she exclaimed, causing Bethany to start laughing.

"Just… just don't be afraid to give him a chance, alright?" she asked with a wink.

"_Anyway_…" Misery answered, waving her hand, "Before you get as bad as Mother, I…"

She trailed off as another thought came to mind. "Oh, wow…" she breathed, "could you imagine Mother's reaction to me coming home with a _dwarf_? It'd serve her right for not leaving me alone about finding a husband."

Bethany laughed knowingly. "She'd faint, though it might be just as much from you having a man at all as from him being a dwarf." Her expression turned more solemn. "You're her last hope for grandchildren though, so she'd probably come around and take what she could get."

"Last hope?"

Bethany sighed, nodding sadly. "Something I found out about the Grey Wardens is the taint makes it very rare for them to have children. Though I suppose it matters little. This isn't exactly a lifestyle to raise a child in."

"I'm so sorry, Bethany… I know having your own family eventually was very important to you."

"I'm alive… That's the important thing, right?" She tried not to let her bitterness seep into her tone. "It's just another part of this new life I need to get used to."

Misery glanced down briefly at the glove on her hand, the one masking the reality that two of its finger holes were empty. "I know…" she whispered.

After several long moments of silence, Bethany changed the subject. "You have the letter for Mother, right?"

"Yeah…" she answered in resignation, knowing it was about time to leave. "I… I know this isn't what either of us wanted, but I'm glad we could burn the first letter you wrote thinking you'd be dead when it reached her."

Bethany nodded. "Yeah… you're right. Miri? Please take care of Mother. She needs you, even if she is just as stubborn as us about admitting that."

"We're Hawkes, stubbornness is our nature," Misery replied, forcing a slight smirk that quickly faded as realization set in. Her eyes began to water again. "C-call Revas please," she choked out through the thickness in her throat.

Bethany was already fighting her own urge not to cry again, but managed to whistle loudly enough for the mabari to come running.

Misery knelt down in front of her dog, resting her forehead on his. "Revas…" she whispered hoarsely, "Y-you… you h-have to… I-I…"

She took a big gulp of air. "I need you to st-stay with Bethany. To watch over her in m-my place."

Bethany gasped, covering her mouth with her hand as she stared in disbelief, not immediately knowing how to respond.

Revas growled. Misery was his master and he'd obey, but not willingly. He loved and was deeply protective of the Hawke family as a whole, but he had only one master. It was the nature of imprinting. Being given away to anyone for any reason chaffed at his nature.

"I kn-know, boy… I know. I n-need you to do this for me anyway."

Revas growled again.

"_Please_… don't make this any harder on me. You _know _this is not what I want."

The mabari leapt back away and crouched low, barking angrily at his master. His response only increased her heartbreak, and Bethany's.

"St-stop," Bethany said, holding up her hand. "No… you're not doing this. Revas needs you and you need him even more."

"Beth-"

"No!"

Bethany was trying to be forceful even though her heart wasn't in it. She felt she needed to head this off before it went any further.

"No, Miri," she continued. "I-I can't tell you how much it means to me that you'd give Revas to me… but no… I won't accept this. I have to think it's only a matter of luck that he has avoided being tainted to this point, and with me he'd be exposed to that risk regularly. I won't do that."

She sighed slightly in relief when she could see understanding and more importantly, acceptance take hold on her older sister's face.

"V-very well…" Misery mumbled, closing her eyes.

It was only a moment before she felt Bethany's arms around her, lifting in encouragement for her to stand. She allowed herself to be helped to her feet, then embraced Bethany tightly.

"I-I'm sorry…" Misery whispered.

"There is nothing to be sorry for, please believe that. I'm just as scared as you are, but we can't make impulsive decisions out of fear. You know, someone I really look up to told me that once."

"Yeah? Who was it?"

Bethany smiled, glad that her sister walked right into it. "You."

"Bethany…"

"We'll be alright, Miri. I have to believe that, even if it's so hard to see how right now."

Misery exhaled slowly. "Of course, you're right."

She wiped her face again before pulling back and forcing a more steadfast expression. "Grey Warden or not, you need me for anything I'll come running. I swear this to you."

With a slight smirk she added, "Oh, and don't think being a Grey Warden gives you a pass to call me 'Miri'."

Bethany returned the smirk, though the effect was largely lost through the tears that hadn't completely stopped. "I could tell you again how proud I am to call you 'Sister'."

"I think you've already gotten all the tears out of me I'm capable of crying." Misery replied before sighing and shaking her head. "I… suppose I'd better go. You take care of yourself, alright? My rules still stand if you don't."

"I know, I know," Bethany answered, giggling softly. "You'll come find my corpse and kill me again. You take care of yourself too, _Sister_."

Misery nodded, her expression solemn for a few moments before a slight smile cracked her façade. "Hey, tell you what… I think… when we're alone… I think I can be 'Miri' again."

"Oh, see, now that's just pure evil," Bethany whispered, wiping fresh tears from her eyes.

Misery chuckled, pulling her sister into one last embrace. "Consider it incentive to come visit. I love you, Bethany. Never forget that."

"I love you too, Miri."

-==0==-

"Now this is just completely wrong," Varric grumbled after the group hit natural light for the first time in close to a month.

"What is?" Anders asked.

Varric gestured around. "The sun shining, the fluffy white clouds in the sky. Warm, clean air. Birds chirping."

"And that's wrong?"

"Blondie… after what we've been through? When I retell this story it's going to be a dark and stormy night, maybe even a snowstorm – a blizzard! And we'll have hoofed it back to Kirkwall in the snow, uphill!"

"Uphill to descend the mountain?"

"You have to be fucking kidding me…" Misery said before groaning.

Varric turned his head. "No, I'm pretty damned serious on this one."

"No… look." She gestured to her right, far down the mountain trail. "Dalish camp."

Everyone looked where she was pointing.

"We came out on Sundermount? Huh, whaddayaknow…" Varric said.

"Do not act like this was unplanned," Fenris remarked dryly.

"No matter," Misery answered, her practical side taking over. "It's been several days since leaving the Warden outpost, and we know now we're a week from Kirkwall. If the Dalish will suffer our presence, and if we can suffer theirs, it would be good to take a day to rest and resupply."

And if she was lucky, Keeper Marethari or another with healing skills would be able to do something for her weakened middle finger. Anders had displayed great skill just in salvaging the finger on the battlefield, as bad of shape as it was in, but two and a half weeks later she still had very little strength in that digit.

If she was the optimistic type, she'd have chalked up her worry to impatience and think the strength would return in time, but she wasn't. She questioned if even going back to a shortbow with its lighter draw would be enough for her to be a competent archer again.

Varric noticed his fellow rogue's expression subtly shift as she got quiet and began moving in the direction of the camp, but he maddeningly had no idea why. She'd been almost painstaking in maintaining her mask of serenity since leaving the Warden outpost, careful not to let even him see the real Misery behind it. Other than a few subtle slips here and there, she was back to keeping the world at arm's length emotionally. She wasn't unpleasant or difficult, simply all business and apparently not interested in offering anything more than that.

"_Stay with her, Varric_," Sunshine had said to him during their few minutes alone while saying goodbye. _"She needs you, and one of these days she'll realize how deep that need goes, that she cares about you the way you do her."_

He'd laughed, mainly laughing off the _matchmaker's _uncomfortable implication that he had those types of feelings for her sister. While he had stopped denying that to himself, he wasn't yet at the point of fully coming to terms with his feelings. But within that laughter was also a skepticism that his feelings, regardless of what they were or were not, even mattered. As much like pulling teeth as it had been just to get Misery to accept friendship, he figured she'd die of old age before letting anyone get intimately close.

Seeing her withdraw once again only reinforced that belief, and after the second day he quit trying to get her to open up. Besides, he had enough of his own crap to worry about without obsessing over her issues on top of it.

Bartrand was still at the forefront of his mind, and Varric burned with desire to kill him. Blood or not, Bartrand's life was forfeit for the betrayal and its results. And in perfect irony, killing the bastard was going to thrust Varric right into the spot he never wanted – needing to take over the family business and representing Tethras interests at the Dwarven Merchant's Guild. He'd already serious contemplated hiring someone to play his cousin and deal with that for him. Or invent a cousin if nothing else.

There was also the question of what to do with Bartrand's estate. He'd inherit of course, assuming he wasn't stupid enough to get the murder pinned on him with enough evidence to stick. Varric had no intention of moving into that place though. He was quite content with his suite at the Hanged Man. It was the perfect location for an information broker such as himself, with the popular Lowtown hangout being a hub for all manner of residents and travelers, a veritable jewelbox of gossip, rumor, news, and assorted information.

Even with Norah providing extra eyes and ears to the ground, she wasn't as savvy when it came to picking out the really subtle details. And for as much free booze as he was keeping the Rivaini in by covering her bar tab in exchange for information, she rarely brought him anything profitable. So he intended to keep working that beat himself, even if those close to him would wonder why he bothered with as rich as he would be after liquidating Bartrand's assets and making a mini-expedition back for the treasure they'd left behind in the Deep Roads.

Still, ambling down the mountain trail soaking in the sun and breeze that felt much more pleasant than he'd let on, Varric found his cluttered thoughts drifting back to that enigma of a woman that kept drawing him in without any awareness to what she was doing. He quickened his pace enough to catch up with her, nudging her in the arm to get her attention.

"Hey… did I tell you about the fru-fru wine your boy Junar introduced me to last time I was here?"

Misery shook her head, raising an eyebrow quizzically when Anders started to laugh knowingly. Varric chuckled as well.

"It's this fruity thing that tastes all sweet, like berries and such. But just when you think that's all there is to it and let your guard down, wham! It sucker punches you and knocks you on your ass."

"What was it you said?" Anders interjected. "Whudda thought elves would know a damned thing about fermenting?"

"Mmm… don't remember actually. Shit packs a punch and doesn't taste like stale piss. You up for some, Miz?"

Misery smirked. "I suspect we could all use a drink at this point. Maker knows I sure could."

The thought also crossed her mind that it might be another in with Junar, whose skill with a bow had impressed her even though she'd bested him in their little competition.

Her eyes went briefly to her right hand and then back towards the camp. Dalish archery skill was legendary. It was perhaps a foolish hope, but hope flickered nonetheless that she'd earned enough respect on her prior visit to receive help in learning to compensate for her hand when firing a bow.

She doubted the others would understand her intense desire, no _need_ to regain her combat prowess. After all, she was now a noblewoman of sorts with a Hightown estate and a fair amount of wealth, wealth which would grow significantly after recovering the remaining Deep Roads treasure. Why did it matter if she could no longer silently drop a target from thirty yards, or could no longer take on a mob of foes solo with twin blades?

It just did. It didn't have to be rational. She couldn't explain it anyway, even if she had to. She just knew that she felt _violated_. Something was taken from her against her will.

And she was determined to take it back.

-==0==-

Misery flopped into the easy chair in Varric's Hanged Man suite, running her fingers through her hair while sighing wearily. Varric, who was sitting at the table reading over some documents, glanced over briefly before chuckling and returning his attention to the page in front on him.

"You know," he began, "for someone who finally got to sleep in a bed again, you sure don't look rested."

They'd finally arrived in Kirkwall early the previous day, and after Anders departed for his clinic the remaining ones went straight to Bartrand's estate. Much to their chagrin, not only was Bartrand not there, but there were no house servants or evidence of recent activity. A cursory examination of the estate and talking to a few neighbors and people that knew Bartrand well suggested that Bartrand had returned, gathered his servants and a few possessions, and then immediately left Kirkwall. At that point the plan was left off with Misery going to her estate to see her Mother while Varric tapped into his network to get information on Bartrand's whereabouts. Then they would regroup at Varric's place the following morning.

The female scowled. "I didn't sleep."

She pulled a small leather sack ball given to her by Keeper Marethari from her pouch and began to spin it in her partial hand, occasionally squeezing down tightly on it with her remaining fingers. The contents contained within the pliable, stitched leather exterior were squishy yet firm, providing a degree of resistance when she squeezed.

Along with some new archery training from the Dalish chief hunter, Misery had been told by the keeper to use this sack ball frequently as a means of regaining her hand and finger strength. Even then it would be awhile before she could fire as consistently as she could prior to the injury.

Varric set down the stack of papers and looked over with a more concerned expression. "How'd it go with your mother?"

"Oh, on a scale between 'I never want to see you again' and 'I am so glad you are safe', I'd rate it as a 'you are a failure'."

"Ouch…"

Misery waved her hand dismissively. "About what I expected. What of Bartrand?"

"He definitely skipped town, but it isn't clear to where. I'd have thought Orzammar if anywhere, but I got a tip from a contact in the Guild that said Bartrand was heading for Rivain – that's completely the opposite the direction of Orzammar."

Misery frowned. "Do you trust your tipster is telling the truth?"

"I don't know… ordinarily I'd say yes, but it just doesn't make any sense. Why Rivain?"

"Where can I find this contact of yours?"

"Why?"

"So I can go find out if he or she is telling the truth."

"How are you going to know that?"

Misery's expression turned dark. "I _will _get the truth, even if I need to bleed it out of them."

"Maker's breath, Misery… I still have other irons in the fire, there's no need to go torturing anyone."

"Fine…" she grumbled bitterly. "So I'll just sit around being perfectly useless until you deem my help is needed."

"Ummm… where did that come from?"

"Forget it," she answered, waving her hand while standing. "I take it we're done here?"

Varric stared at her curiously. "Do you mean with this topic, or in general?"

"You tell me."

"I don't know what you want from me here. Surely you don't think I'm going back on my word about sticking with you after the expedition?"

Misery's glare faltered and she put her face in her hand. "I… I don't know… no, that's not true. I trust you, I really do. I just… I'm just sort of… lost right now. It's like someone took all the pieces of my life from a month ago, threw them in a pot, and mixed them to the point of being unrecognizable. Everything is different now."

"Not everything."

When Misery lowered her hand and looked at him expectantly, he continued, "I'm still here."

She nodded slowly. "Thanks, V."

"Hey… don't worry. Worst case I'll have people watching for Bartrand. He won't be able to sniff Kirkwall without me knowing about it. And if I get solid info on where he's gone, we'll make sure he meets his end there."

She didn't say anything in reply for several long moments before sighing deeply. "Then I guess that's the end of it for now?"

Varric chuckled. "For now, perhaps. But I have a feeling there's still a lot more to the story yet to come."

* * *

><p><em>AN: Varric's right, this is both the end and not the end ;) <em>

_'Hurtled into Chaos' is complete anyway, now that we've reached the conclusion of the first act. We'll pick up Act II in a new story, 'The Precipice of Change', and since _I have chapter 1 of it _about 3/4 done I'm intending to have it ready to post on Friday (U.S. time). _

_Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, alerted, or even just read this story. When I began it, I admit I had a bit of concern that Misery would be too off putting for people to care enough to stick with her story. That was actually one of the reasons I gave Bethany and Varric such prominent roles right off the bat, to provide balance to Misery's character. Anyway, I've been pleasantly surprised at how well Misery has been received and greatly appreciate all the support I've received along the way. Next stop, Act II! Thanks again!_


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